


The Biggest Part of Me

by Anna_Heyward



Series: The Biggest Part of Me 'verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Color blind Steve, Daddy! Steve, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, boys being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Heyward/pseuds/Anna_Heyward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly divorced single dad Steve Rogers moves his kids from the suburbs to Brooklyn to start their new life together, and becomes captivated by the young man who works at the coffee shop downstairs from Steve’s apartment.</p><p>Bucky Barnes is 25 years old, working part-time in a coffee shop and still living with his mom. When a handsome single dad in a pinch offers Bucky a job as his nanny, Bucky takes him up on it.</p><p>(AU of the movie The Rebound.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting these chapters as I write them, so updates will not be regular. I will, however, try to get them out as quickly as possible.
> 
> This is not beta'd, so please let me know if you notice any mistakes.

Steve Rogers’ day began just like any other, at 5 a.m. He donned his nylon running pants and a t-shirt, and grabbed his shoes and socks as quietly as possible so as not to wake Sharon. She’d been working late for weeks on a new account and needed her beauty sleep, although she’d probably be up and almost ready by the time Steve got back. He threw his shoes on and pocketed his keys, exiting the house into the pre-dawn darkness.

There wasn’t time for more than a quick seven miles, since the early morning chaos would be in full swing soon. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as Steve rounded the last corner back toward his house. He slowed his pace as he jogged up his driveway and wished, not for the first time, that he could appreciate the rainbow of hues that must have been lighting up the sky.

The kitchen door opened to the sound of the television and the aroma of fresh coffee, the automatic brewer timed perfectly to coincide with the end of Steve’s run. He glanced over at the TV screen in the next room as he poured his java and rolled his eyes as he recognized the Power Rangers on screen; he really hoped that obsession would end soon. “Morning, Joseph,” he greeted his son, ruffling the boy’s hair. Joseph looked so tiny for his six years, sitting there curled up cross-legged on the floor and munching on a bowl of Cheerios that he’d fixed himself. Hopefully the boy would catch his growth spurt earlier than his dad had and avoid the relentless teasing Steve had endured. “Where’s your sister?”

“Still sleeping, I think.”

Steve smiled and leaned over, whispering conspiratorially into his son’s ear. “I think she may be turning into a zombie. What do you think?”

“Daddy,” Joseph groaned exasperatedly, “Zombies don’t sleep. They stay awake all the time and eat people’s brains for food.”

“How do you know that’s not what we had for dinner last night, huh?”

Joseph eyed him warily. “But we had spaghetti.”

Steve nodded. “Spaghetti with brain sauce.”

“Ewww!” Joseph giggled. “Brain sauce!”

Steve grinned and took a sip of his coffee. “Finish this episode, then no more TV, okay? I want you to make your bed before school.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Joseph stuffed his mouth with a too-big spoonful of Cheerios and turned back to his program.

Steve took one more gulp of coffee and made his way toward his daughter’s room. Her door was decorated in bright pink (she assured him) glittery letters spelling out “Sarah.” He gingerly opened the door and took in the sleeping form of his little girl. She always looked like such an angel when she slept; Steve had spent many a night after she was born just standing over her crib watching her eyelids flutter while she dreamed. Nine years later, and the sight still choked him up. He indulged himself a few more moments before flipping the switch and flooding her room with light. “Come on, time to get up, Boogaloo.”

Sarah groaned and pulled the covers over her head. “Five more minutes, Dad.”

“You already had five more minutes. Come on, time to get up. You got a spelling test today, remember? We need to go over your words again before school.”

“Dad, I don’t need to go over my words again. What I need is five more minutes of sleep.”

“Okay, spell ‘surprise’ correctly and I’ll give you five more minutes.”

Sarah gave him a murderous death glare. It took every ounce of self-control Steve could muster not to crack a smile. “Okay, fine,” she grumbled as she pulled the covers back and threw her legs off the side of the bed. “Cheap shot, Dad.”

“Hey, I just want you to do the best you can on this test today. Missing one word out of fifteen isn’t bad, but I know you can do better.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sarah made her way over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans. “Can I have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Tell you what. You get all your spelling words right, and we’ll have pancakes for dinner. Deal?”

Sarah’s smile was blinding. “Deal.”

Steve shut the door as he left and made his way to his and Sharon’s bedroom. He stripped off his sweaty running clothes and tossed them in the hamper, strolling naked into the en suite bathroom. Sharon was at the mirror putting the finishing touches on her makeup. “Morning, babe,” he greeted, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, peppering her neck with kisses. “You couldn’t have waited a few more minutes and joined me in the shower?”

“Sorry.” Sharon twisted her head away from his mouth and went back to applying her mascara. “Got a meeting first thing this morning. Can’t be late.”

“Again?” he groaned, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’ve just missed you, is all. This new account has monopolized way too much of your time.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But once we get this account squared away, things should settle down.” She twisted around in his arms and let her hands settle on his shoulders. “Then maybe we can talk about going away for the weekend?”

“That sounds perfect.” He leaned down and captured her lips in a quick kiss. “I know the kids would love a weekend away. What about the Jersey shore? I bet they’d love the pier.”

Sharon rolled her eyes at him and turned back toward the mirror. “I meant just you and me. Without the kids.”

“Oh, is that so?” Steve tightened his arms around her and nibbled on her earlobe. “I think we could arrange something like that.”

“Good. Now go take a shower. You stink,” she teased, swatting him away.

*

Steve indulged himself under the hot, steamy spray for a full ten minutes before he dragged himself out and got dressed. He still needed to help Sarah with her spelling words one last time before driving the kids to school, and he wanted to make it to the grocery store before it got too late in the day. He knew they had some maple syrup for the pancakes, but Sarah liked strawberry, and they were out.

A loud rattle made Steve jump as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. He smoothed the fabric across his torso and glanced at the dresser toward the source of the noise. Sharon had left her phone plugged in; a message from her coworker Brock flashed across the screen.

_You were sensational yesterday._

Steve smiled to himself. It was nice to see Sharon getting kudos from her coworkers; she _had_ been working hard, and deserved to have her dedication recognized. The phone buzzed almost immediately, and Steve felt the breath leave his body as he realized he had completely misunderstood the meaning of that first message.

_I miss your tight little pussy already._

Holy shit. Did that mean what he thought it meant? The phone buzzed again.

_Got something special planned for tonight. Gonna see how loud I can make you scream._

Steve braced his hands against the dresser; he was going to pass out. Sharon was cheating on him? How long had this been going on? The phone buzzed again, and Steve fought the urge to throw it against the wall.

_Just like that time in Chicago ;)_

The floor tilted away from him and he stumbled toward the bed and sat down. Holy shit, Chicago. Sharon had gone there on a business trip, what, a year and a half ago? This had been going on for a year and a half? Possibly more?

“Hey, I forgot to tell you,” Sharon called out as she walked back into the bedroom, mug of coffee in hand. “I’ll probably be working late again tonight. Brock has me working on this new project for the client and… what’s wrong?”

Steve stared at the phone in his hand and then slowly looked up at his wife. His _wife_ , whom he had promised to love and honor and stand beside in sickness and in health, and sure, things between them were far from perfect, but here she was, pretending that she wasn’t about to… he couldn’t even let himself finish the thought. “So, that’s what you’re calling it now, huh? Work?”

Sharon just stared at him, confused.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Steve continued. “After all, you always made it seem like such a chore with me.”

“What are you talking about?” Sharon shook her head, brows pinched in puzzlement.

“I’m talking about this.” Steve unlocked the screen, clicked on the last message, and held the phone out to her. Sharon’s face hardened.

“You snooped through my private messages? How dare you!”

“Are you kidding me right now? You think you have the right to be angry at me? I’m not the one pissing on this marriage, Sharon.”

Sharon pushed past him and grabbed her satchel off the accent chair in the corner, tossing her phone inside. “This marriage was over a long time ago, Steve. You just didn’t notice because you’ve been too busy playing housewife.”

“I’ve been raising our children, Sharon!”

“Call it whatever you want, big guy. The gravy train is over.” Sharon shouldered her bag and grabbed her suit jacket off the bed. “Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but it’s for the best.”

“What are you talking about? What about this is for the best?”

“Look, I was gonna wait until after Christmas, but we might as well do this now.” Sharon set her bag down on the bed and pulled out a stack of papers framed in blue. “Here. I’ll be moving in with Brock. I can come by one day while the kids are at school to get my stuff. I’ll text you a few days beforehand so you can be out of the house if you want.”

Steve glanced at the stack of papers that had somehow made its way into his hands. _Petition for Dissolution of Marriage_ , it read. “Just like that? We’re getting divorced?”

“You wanna drag this out?” Sharon sighed. “It’s over, Steve. It has been for a while. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see any reason to pretend anymore.”

“You just asked me to go away with you for the weekend!”

“And you wanted to bring the kids. I think I rest my case.” Sharon shouldered her satchel again and turned to leave. “I really am sorry, Steve.”

Steve sat down on the bed, flipping through the forms in stunned bewilderment.

She gave him full custody of the kids.

Just like that, Steve was now a single father with two children. And no job.

“Dad? Are you okay?” Sarah came padding in and climbed into Steve’s lap.

“Yeah, honey. I’m okay.” Steve tightened his arms around his daughter and blinked back the tears. “Now that you’re here.”

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

*

“She said that? Dude, that’s cold.” Sam grabbed another box out of the back of Steve’s SUV.

“Yep,” Steve nodded, grabbing the last box and closing the trunk. “Just like that, very matter-of-fact. ‘It’s over, I’m leaving, here’s the papers.’”

“Well, I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but any girl who doesn’t want you is clearly not right in the head. I think you’ll be better off without her.”

Steve knew logically that Sam was right. He knew that someday he’d look back on this and know that him and Sharon splitting was the best thing ever to happen to him. Right now, however, when he was moving into his best friend’s apartment in Brooklyn, homeless and jobless, it didn’t feel so much like a blessing. He had his dual degree in art and art history from NYU, but after years of being a stay-at-home-dad, those few online courses in web design he’d taken last year were hardly enough to fill out his resumé. “I hope you’re right about that,” Steve sighed.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Joseph came running out of the lobby onto the sidewalk. “Sam has a balcony!”

“It’s a fire escape, and did you just come down here all by yourself after I told you to stay upstairs?”

“It’s okay, Daddy. I remembered the way.”

Steve crouched down and set his box on the ground. “Buddy, we’re in the big city now. We gotta be careful, okay? There’s lots more strangers here than at home, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“But I was careful, Daddy. I looked both ways and everything!”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, stifling a giggle. “But from now on, I want you with me or Sam, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Good. Now, will you help me pick up this box? It’s so heavy!”

Steve got a good grip on one side and watched as his son dug his tiny little fingers under the other side, grunting as he “helped” Steve lift the box while Sam stood off to the side and tried not to laugh. They made their way back up to Sam’s third floor walk-up, Joseph directing him at every turn with “this way, Daddy!” Steve said a silent prayer of thanks that his son was having fun and considered this an adventure instead of what it really was.

“Is this the last of it?” Sam asked as he set his box down in the corner with the rest of Steve’s stuff.

“Yeah.” Steve set his box down with the others and just stood there a moment, looking at the small pile of things. This was it, his whole life in a few boxes. The furniture and few remaining possessions were in a storage locker waiting on Steve to find a place for him and his kids to live. The house had been sold, the proceeds split between him and Sharon, though she’d offered him a larger portion since he had the kids to look out for.

It was amazing, and not in a good way, how drastically his life had changed in the space of a few weeks. Now instead of a wife and a home and a family he had a few boxes and a check in the bank for $40,000.

“It’ll get easier, you know.” Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder. “And like I told you, you and the kids are welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

_“Dad, he farted on me!”_

_“No I didn’t! I just pooted a little!”_

Steve glanced at Sam and rolled his eyes. “You sure about that?”

 

* * *

 

It had been plenty traumatizing, Sarah’s first day of kindergarten three years ago. Steve never told anyone, but he cried for a full half hour in the car after dropping his little girl off. He had been at home with her every day of her six little years, and watching her bounce off into the classroom affected him more than he’d ever admit. Not because she never once looked back at him, but because she was growing up, faster than he was ready for.

It wasn’t quite as bad with Joseph. Steve knew what to expect, for one. And two, Joseph still let his dad walk him to the classroom door every morning, giving Steve a hug and a kiss and an “I love you, Daddy” before he walked inside.

This new school that he’d enrolled them in, though, had a much stricter policy on parent drop-offs – as in, parents weren’t allowed near the school at all. Steve could only walk Sarah and Joseph as far as the fenced-in lot in front of the school, and had to say his goodbyes there. Sarah gave Steve a quick hug and skipped off across the lot toward the door, leaving her brother to find his own way in.

Steve crouched down to his little boy. “You remember where your classroom is, buddy?”

Joseph nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Okay. I’ll pick you and your sister up right here at 2:45, okay?” He wrapped his arms around Joseph and gave him a hug, trying his best for his son’s sake to hold it together. “Have fun today, okay?”

Joseph hugged Steve back and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

And then Steve had to just stand there and watch as Joseph turned tentatively to face the school lot. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and let it out shakily. He looked so tiny and frail, with his almost-too-big-for-him Superman backpack dwarfing his shoulders, trying so hard to psych himself up for the Herculean task of walking into the school by himself. Steve wanted to help him out so much, to say “screw the rules” go in anyway, but he knew he couldn’t. All Steve could do was stand there and let the tears fall silently as his little boy crossed that lot one small foot at a time until he was lost amongst kids who were older, bigger, and scarier.

Steve made a mental note to take his brave little boy out for ice cream one day.

He started back down the street toward Sam’s place, though not really keen on going right back. Instead he ambled aimlessly for a few blocks, taking in his new neighborhood, making mental notes of places the kids might like to go. There was a diner not too far from Sam’s place whose menu in the window boasted strawberry pancakes that Sarah would love. A pizza place a few doors down had a six-cheese pizza that Joseph would salivate over. Steve thought of his little boy again, shoulders shaking as he crossed that lot toward the school, and another tear fell from Steve’s eyes.

Fuck. _He’s going to be okay,_ Steve told himself.

He spotted a coffee shop a few doors down on the corner, simply named “The Coffee Shop,” and stopped in. He really shouldn’t spare $5 for a fancy drink when Sam had coffee back at his place, but screw it, he’d just had a traumatizing morning.

The door jingled its greeting as he walked in. The place looked homey, with an eclectic mix of booths and overstuffed chairs. Steve scanned the menu; the prices weren’t nearly as bad as he’d prepared himself for.

“You ready to order?” the kid behind the counter asked.

Steve’s brows pinched as he weighed his options. He’d been leaning toward a cappuccino until he spotted the hot chocolate at the bottom of the menu. Maybe he should try that; if it was good, he might bring the kids back here one day after school. That mental image of his son once again wormed its way back into the front of Steve’s mind and he felt his lip quiver.

“Holy shit, you okay, man? You looked like someone just killed your dog or something.”

Steve sniffed. “I’m okay. Just dropped my kids off. First day at a new school. You know how it is,” he shrugged. “Sorry. I’ll, uh… cappuccino, I guess.”

“You sure about that?” the kid smirked at him and hey, was that a wink?

Steve felt his face relax into a smile. “Yeah. Well, I was thinking maybe a hot chocolate, but I think I might need the caffeine.”

“How about we do both, then? A hot chocolate cappuccino?”

Steve frowned. “I don’t see that on the menu. Are you allowed to go around making stuff up?”

The kid shrugged. “Boss isn’t here. What she don’t know, am I right?”

Steve smiled. This kid was cute, and charming. Steve glanced down for the first time and noticed the guy’s name tag. Bucky, it read. “Well, Bucky, then I guess that’s what I’ll have.”

“One hot chocolate cappuccino coming right up.” Bucky turned around and grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator. “And no more guessin’, you hear me? You gonna live in Brooklyn, you gotta be more assertive.”

“Is it that obvious I’m new here?”

“Yeah, you do kinda stick out. But that’s okay, you’re hot, so you’re forgiven.”

Steve coughed. Was this kid flirting with him now?

“So,” Bucky asks him, “You stayin’ or you want this to go?”

“Oh. Staying, I guess.” He mentally smacked himself for saying it a third time. “Staying. Definitely.”

Bucky looked back at him and grinned. “You got it.”

Steve glanced around the counter while Bucky worked, not wanting to be impolite or creepy by watching the kid work. There was a rack of newspapers to his left, so he grabbed one and slapped it on the counter just as Bucky finished his drink and set it in front of him. “I’ll take a newspaper, too.”

“Okay, that’s $1 for the paper. Coffee’s on the house.”

“Seriously?” Steve’s eyebrows climbed his forehead as he pulled a $5 out of his wallet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Store policy,” Bucky winked at him and handed him his change. “New, untested, experimental drinks are free the first time. You come back and want another one, though, you gotta pay.”

“Alright, then,” Steve chuckled, placing the remaining bills in the tip jar. He took his cup and tipped it toward Bucky before taking a sip and _Oh, God_ , that was good. It was the perfect mixture of nutty espresso and sweet chocolate, and Steve stifled a moan as the flavors mingled on his taste buds.

“Good?” Bucky looked up hopefully.

“Good,” Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

And now they were just standing there, awkwardly staring at each other. Steve cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, I’m just gonna…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward the corner of the shop.

“Go nuts,” Bucky replied, turning back toward his counter.

Steve settled on a booth seat in the corner by the window. The seats were plush and comfortable; combined with the heavenly concoction he’d been given, he could definitely see himself coming back here. He opened his newspaper and, sighing heavily, went immediately to the classified section. No point in delaying the inevitable.

The question was, which section should he look at first? Sam had said they could stay as long as they needed to, but Steve really wanted to find a place for him and the kids to stay asap. But without a job, his savings would only last so long. He didn’t want to end up broke and destitute and out on the street before his youngest finished kindergarten.

Oh, God, what was he gonna do? He had two children counting on him. Thank God kids were so resilient, because they hadn’t really figured out yet just how desperate their situation was; so far this was just one big adventure to them. There had been a few tears from Sarah about having to leave her friends and go to a new school, but Steve promised that once they got settled he’d buy her her own computer so she could keep in touch. He hadn’t yet gone back on a promise to his kids, and he didn’t want to start now.

The overwhelming weight of his situation hit Steve for maybe the first time since this whole thing happened. Up until now it had been all business, of filing divorce papers and selling the house and asking Sam if they could move in, but now – now, he had to somehow create this new life for the three of them out of thin air. How the hell was he supposed to accomplish that? He wasn’t a superhero, for Christ’s sake, despite the fact that his kids sometimes thought he was.

Steve placed his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands, taking in a few shaky deep breaths to calm himself down. He was not going to cry here in this coffee shop in front of a total stranger.

The noise of something rattling against the table startled Steve, and he pulled his head from his hands to see Bucky sitting in front of him, sliding a plate toward him that held the most enticing cinnamon streusel muffin Steve had ever seen.

“You looked like you needed a little pick-me-up. Moreso than the caffeine and chocolate I already gave you.”

Steve’s face softened. Damn, that was really sweet of Bucky. “Are you allowed to give pastries away on the house too? I don’t want to get you in trouble my first week in the city.”

Bucky waved him off. “I used the money you put in the tip jar to pay for it. Now come on, take a bite so you can flatter me with how good my baking skills are.”

Steve chuckled in spite of himself and tore off a bite, and holy cow. “You really baked these?”

Bucky nodded. “It’s my boss’ family recipe, but if you ask me, I make ‘em better than she does,” he winked.

“Well, they’re good. But you probably already knew that, huh?”

“So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Steve frowned. “Don’t you have customers to take care of?”

Bucky glanced around and gestured at the otherwise-empty café. “Nope. The morning rush is over, and the lunch rush is still a few hours away. Looks like you’re my only customer at the moment, so you get my full attention. Now talk.”

Steve sighed, shaking his head. “I appreciate it, but I’m not going to burden a total stranger with my problems.”

“It’s not a burden, you doofus, I asked. And something tells me you’re the kinda guy to keep stuff to yourself and not talk to your friends, so maybe telling a total stranger’ll help.”

Steve took another bite of his muffin, relishing the sweet-spiciness as he thought it over. “About 6 weeks ago, I found out my wife had been cheating on me, for over a year and a half. When I confronted her about it, she handed me divorce papers. My kids and I are staying with a friend right now, and to tell you the truth, it’s all just a little overwhelming.”

Bucky shook his head. “Damn, that’s rough.”

Now that he’d gotten those first few painful words out, Steve found he just couldn’t stop. The rest of it came spilling out. “I’ve been a stay-at-home dad since our daughter was born. I haven’t had a regular job in 9 years. How the hell am I supposed to find a job to support myself and my children when the only thing I can put on my resumé for the past 9 years is staying home to raise two kids?” Steve shook his head. “You know, it made perfect sense at the time, when Sarah was born. I was an art teacher at Pine View Elementary, and I loved it, but my salary barely covered what we would’ve paid in child care, so I quit and stayed home with her. And, you know, I wouldn’t trade my time with her and Joseph for the world. But now, I can’t help but wonder if I made the right choice. I mean, who the hell in their right mind is gonna hire someone like me?”

Bucky got out of his seat and slid in next to Steve. “Okay first of all,” he began, placing his hand on top of Steve’s, “don’t even think like that. You made the right choice. I don’t know your kids, but I can tell you from personal experience that spending time with your children is never a mistake. You hear me? And second of all, come on, look at you! Who in their right mind _wouldn’t_ hire you? You’re good-lookin’, you’re built, you’re sweet and charming, you got the whole all-American thing going for you. I bet once you put some feelers out you’ll have most of New York City beating down your door for a chance to work with you.”

Steve gave an embarrassed little chuckle in spite of himself. It was completely illogical that a few kind, flirtatious words from a handsome stranger should make him feel better, but they did.

“And on top of that,” Bucky continued, “Staying home to raise two kids is a job and a half. I’ll bet you’re organized as hell, can juggle ten tasks at once, and still manage to get a nutritious meal on the table every night. Who wouldn’t want someone like that working for them?”

“Okay, I get it.” Steve could feel the tips of his ears heating up now. “You can stop now.”

The door jingled as an older couple came in. “Alright, I gotta get back.” Bucky stood up, leaning over Steve before he departed. “Now, next time I see you in here, I want to see a little more of that smile, okay?”

Damn, this kid was making him blush left and right. “Okay.”

Steve turned toward the classified section once more as he polished off his coffee and muffin, making note of a few possibilities to check out later.

Yeah, they were gonna be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adjusted Sarah's age in chapter 1 from 8 to 9. It won't make any difference in this story, but it would have for one of the timestamps I thought of this week, so I changed it.

“Well, hey there, stranger!”

Steve heard Bucky’s greeting before he’d even let the door shut behind him. He hadn’t made it back to The Coffee Shop in weeks, but somehow the barista remembered him. It warmed him more than he expected it to, and felt his ears heat up almost immediately. “Hey, yourself,” he smiled back.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Bucky commented. “How goes the job search?”

“Rough,” Steve admitted shaking his head. “Turns out looking for a job takes up more time than actually having one.”

“Any leads so far?”

Steve nodded. “I had an interview a couple of days ago, actually. Art teacher for an elementary school in Harlem.”

“And?” Bucky demanded.

“And they just called me. Decided to go in another direction, apparently.”

“Well, it’s their loss.”

“Thank you,” Steve nodded. Somehow those words, that standard placating response that people were “supposed” to say, sounded completely sincere coming from Bucky. Steve was simultaneously warmed and disappointed at the lack of flirtation in Bucky’s response.

“So you decided to come here and let my good looks and charm erase your disappointment, huh?” Bucky winked.

There it was. Steve grinned in spite of the lousy news he’d just gotten. “Something like that.”

“So, the usual?”

Steve chuckled. “I’ve only been here once. How do you even remember?”

Bucky looked at Steve like he’d suddenly grown a second head. “Seriously? Okay, first of all, you’re probably the hottest customer I’ve had all month, so it’s not like I’d forget you. And second, I told the boss lady about my brilliant concoction, and she added it to the menu.” Bucky pointed at the board behind him and sure enough, there it was, at the bottom of the drinks list – _Hot Chocolate Cappuccino, $3.25_. “I would’ve had her name it after you, but you never told me your name.”

Before Steve could get the words out, a petite brunette came bursting through the kitchen door carrying a tray of muffins. “Remind me again why I agreed to hire someone who just stands there and flirts all day instead of putting out the fresh muffins like I asked him to fifteen minutes ago?”

“Come on, Nat!” Bucky gestured toward Steve. “I happen to be helping a very important customer at the moment.”

“No, you happen to be helping yourself try and get laid,” she countered as she filled the display case with the freshly baked goods.

Steve coughed as he felt his eyes widen suddenly. Damn, he’d thought Bucky was brash; Bucky had nothing on this woman.

“That’s not what I’m doing here, Nat!” Bucky protested. “And I’ll have you know, this is the nice gentleman who inspired our newest best-selling drink.”

Nat’s face brightened as she smiled at Steve. “Ah, so this is the famous hot single dad? What’s your name, handsome?”

Steve didn’t think it was possible to blush any more. “Steve Rogers, ma’am.”

“Hey! How come you never told me your name but she gets it a whole minute after meeting you?”

Steve shrugged. “She asked?”

Nat smacked Bucky on the shoulder. “See, what have I been telling you? The direct approach is always best.” She turned toward Steve and held out her hand. “Natasha Romanov. I own this place. And since that drink of yours is selling like crazy these days, it’s on the house.”

Steve shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am. You don’t have to do that, though.”

She frowned at him. “You always do that when people try to do you a favor?”

Well, trust a New Yorker to cut right to the chase. “I guess I’m just not used to needing so many at once. I feel like I’m overdrawn on favors lately,” Steve shrugged.

“Hey, speaking of,” Bucky interrupted, grabbing Nat’s arm, “what about the…”

Steve watched as Bucky and Natasha had some sort of wordless conversation that involved a lot of insistent facial expressions and pointing upwards on Bucky’s part, and a lot of frowning on Natasha’s. Finally they came to some sort of agreement and Nat nodded. “Fine. But I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“Consider me held. I promise you, though, this guy’s a good choice.”

“Good for what?” Steve glanced between the two, wondering what he’d just missed.

“The apartment upstairs is gonna be available in a few weeks. Tenant just gave notice yesterday. It’s three bedrooms, one and a half baths, $2600 a month. You interested?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Steve boggled at her; he’d been looking unsuccessfully for weeks.

“I never joke about money. So, you wanna take a look?”

“What, now? You don’t have to contact the landlord first?”

“Nope, you’re looking at her. So, what do you say?”

“Okay,” Steve shrugged, unable to believe the sudden turn of events. “Let’s go.”

 

*

 

The apartment was on the second floor, immediately above the café. Steve knew the moment he walked in that the place was infinitely better than the others he’d looked at. The living area to his left was bathed in sunlight, while the kitchen to his right featured new stainless steel appliances and had just enough room for an eating area in the corner. Everything was immaculately kept; whoever was vacating this place had clearly taken good care of it, and Steve knew that reflected well on Natasha as a landlord.

“So, what do you think so far?” she asked.

The $2600 price tag was well more than the mortgage on his and Sharon’s old house, but Steve had expected the steeper prices here. This place, though, was still far less expensive than some of the others he’d looked at. With the child support Sharon was paying him, he could just about make it work. He’d still be dipping into the savings for a while until he found a job, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much as he’d been preparing himself for.

He couldn’t believe a place like this had just fallen into his lap. “It’s perfect,” Steve grinned.

“Let me show you the rest, then.” Natasha led him through the three bedrooms, all smaller than the old house, but at least there were three. Steve wouldn’t have to sleep on a fold-out couch in the living room just so his kids could have their own spaces.

“You’ve got a full bath here in the hallway, with the half just off the kitchen. The closet here has a stacked washer and dryer.” Natasha opened the hallway closet to show him the appliances. “And back here you got bedroom, bedroom, bedroom. They’re all pretty much the same size, so it’ll be up to you which one you wanna make the master. Closets are pretty decent too.”

“You know I don’t have a job, right?” Steve blurted.

Natasha frowned at him. “Do you always try to talk people out of being nice to you?”

Steve gave a relieved chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’ve just had several places reject me outright when they found out I’m still unemployed. I mean, I have money. Between child support and savings, I can afford this, no problem.”

“But…?”

“But, you know, you could easily get twice what you’re asking for this place.”

“Steve, let me tell you something. I’m not the kind of person to bilk people out of their hard-earned money just because I can. I may act like a bitch, but I’m not completely heartless. Besides, I like you. I can tell, you’re good people. And I like to surround myself with good people. So, what do you say?”

Steve felt himself relax for the first time in weeks. “When can we move in?”

 

*

 

Even after the movers left, Steve was still completely on edge.

He knew he shouldn’t be, that the only thing that happened was that his stuff was moved from one location to another, but somehow it just made his split from Sharon seem all that more real. Watching the things he and his wife had so carefully collected together over a decade of marriage suddenly appear in a second-floor walk up in Brooklyn just served to reinforce the fact that that whole part of his life was definitely over.

Steve had briefly considered getting rid of everything and starting over with new stuff, but decided in the end that it would be easier on the kids if they had pieces of home with them in their new place. He’d still probably make a trip to Ikea in the coming weeks so that he and the kids could have a little fun in decorating their new spaces, but for now he’d have to settle for being in this sort of limbo, this unsettling mixture of home and not home.

“You okay, man?” Sam asked Steve, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve waved him off. “It’s just weird, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But soon you’ll be settled in and this place’ll feel every bit as much a home as the old place did. In the meantime just be glad you get to sleep in a bed again.”

Steve nodded. His and Sharon’s old bed was the one thing he hadn’t been able to bring himself to move from the old house; the thought of sleeping in their king-sized marriage bed alone was almost too much to bear. Instead, he was going to take the one from the guest room, the same old double bed that had been his growing up. He’d need to get a new mattress for it, and his feet would probably hang off the end, but at least it would feel familiar in a way that was not gut-wrenchingly painful.

“So, you ready to get this stuff unpacked, or what?” Sam clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the kitchen, pulling two beers out of the refrigerator and handing one to Steve.

“You in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“Hey, my clients pay top dollar for these muscles. You’re getting me at the bargain basement price of lunch and a six-pack. You might as well take advantage, right?”

“You gonna yell at me all afternoon like you do with them, too?” Steve joked, reaching for a box marked “kitchen.”

“Hey, I do whatever it takes to get the client’s ass in gear and get ‘em in shape.”

“Oh, God,” Steve groaned. “You’re not gonna start calling me ‘the client’ now, are you?”

“You know, that does have a nice ring to it,” Sam laughed, picking up a box marked “dishes.” “But since you’re the one who set up my web site and brought in half my business, I’ll let it slide.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I’m a nice guy, what can I say?”

 

* * *

 

Steve had expected it to be weird, having dinner with the kids in this new place.

Before the divorce, Sharon was hardly ever home for dinner, spending her evenings at the office more often than not, so Steve was used to it just being him and the kids. That first month or so after she left, dinner took on a more somber tone, at least for Steve; the kids, bless their hearts, were used to Mommy not being there, so it wasn’t much different for them. But Steve, he could feel this huge gaping hole in his existence. Just knowing that she wouldn’t be walking in the door later during the kids’ bath time, or be curling up beside Steve as he and the kids were cuddled up under his mother’s afghan watching a late movie, made eating dinner alone with them seem all the more, well, lonely.

Dinner with the kids at Sam’s place was a completely different experience entirely. It was weird enough being in a completely different setting, but having another person there entirely gave the whole thing enough of a temporary vibe that it never really sunk in with Steve what the new normal was going to be without Sharon.

So after getting moved into the new place Steve expected it to feel weird. He had known for a couple of months now that the day would come when he’d cook dinner for himself and the kids with his old cookware in his new kitchen, and sit down to eat at his old table in his new apartment. Dinner alone with the kids wasn’t anything new; he’d been doing that for years. But knowing in the back of his mind that it would be him and him alone helping with the homework and reading the bedtime stories and tucking the kids into bed, Steve had prepared himself that things were going to feel weird for a while.

The weird part, though, was that it didn’t feel weird.

Even with boxes surrounding them in various states of being unpacked, this new little family of three in their cozy apartment in Brooklyn felt strangely… _not_ strange.

“Dad, can I paint my new room?” Sarah asked as she polished off the last of her pizza.

“I don’t see why not,” Steve shrugged. Sharon had always insisted on having the kids’ rooms in soft neutrals to maintain some “aesthetic,” but you know what? She wasn’t here anymore. If the kids wanted plaid and polka dots now, Steve was gonna find a way to give it to them. “I’ll have to ask Natasha, but I don’t think she’d mind.”

“Who’s Natasha?” Joseph asked, feet kicking wildly under the table.

“She’s the nice lady who owns this place and is letting us live here.”

“Can we call her right now and ask?” Sarah pleaded.             

“No, Boog. It’s dinner time.”

“Dinner time is family time!” Joseph echoed.

“That’s right.” Steve stifled a giggle and painted on his serious face once more. “You know that. It’s not nice to bother people at dinner time. But I tell you what – I can ask her first thing tomorrow, and if she says yes, we can stop by the paint store and pick out colors after school. How does that sound?”

“Ooh, can I have pink?”

“I want blue!”

“I want pink and purple and hearts everywhere!”

“I want blue and stars like Star Wars!”

“Wait a second. How do you know about Star Wars?” Steve knew that Joseph had never seen the movie with him; he’d always thought his son was still too young for the violence and more adult themes.

“Peter at school told me ‘bout it. He has a Star Wars backpack, and a sky walker, an’ we played light savers at recess!”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s light _saber_ , Joseph.”

“Nuh-uh! It’s _saver_!”

“Okay, okay you two. No fighting at the dinner table.” It took all of Steve’s resolve not to laugh at the fact that his children were fighting over proper Star Wars terminology.

“But Dad…”

“She said…”

“That’s it,” Steve sighed, scooting his chair back from the table. “I think it’s time to clean up. You two are on dish duty.” He gave stern looks toward his two children, who glowered at him. “Don’t give me those looks. If you’re going to fight during family time, this is what happens.”

Steve helped the kids bring the dishes to the sink while they continued to fight over whose turn it was to wash and whose turn it was to rinse. It was all so utterly normal considering how many times they’d been uprooted during the past few months that Steve had to take a moment and say a prayer of thanks that he’d been blessed with the two best kids on earth.

He was just about to start wrapping up the remains of their pizza when a knock sounded at the door. Steve was stunned to see the charming barista from the Coffee Shop standing in his doorway. “Bucky! This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“Housewarming gift.” Bucky handed over a box haphazardly wrapped in plain white paper with a bow on top and gave Steve a shy smile. “Couldn’t let this momentous occasion go by uncelebrated now, could I?”

“Thank you; that’s very kind. But you didn’t have to do this.” Steve waved Bucky in anyway, setting the box on the kitchen table.

“Are you kidding? We’re practically neighbors now. Just being neighborly.” Bucky sauntered in and frowned as he spotted the remains of dinner on the table. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting. I should go.”

“Daddy, who’s that?” Joseph came running over, the front of his shirt entirely soaked.

“Buddy, what happened?! I only turned my back for thirty seconds!”

“Sarah let me rinse the plates with the sprayer all by myself!” he beamed.

“Sarah…” Steve groaned, pinching his brow.

“It was his turn to rinse, Dad! It’s not my fault!”

Bucky chuckled. “Looks like washing dishes is a full-contact sport in the Rogers household, huh?”

“Yeah, and I’m always the one that loses,” Steve muttered.

Bucky leaned in closer. “Yeah, well now it’s two-on-two. I think we can take ‘em.”

“No!” Steve laughed. “Do not give them any ideas!”

“Aww, you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, this place is pretty boring.” Steve turned toward the mess in the kitchen, groaning inwardly at how “cleaning up” could somehow make both the kitchen and his children even messier than before. “Alright, kids, I think it’s time for you both to get some clean clothes on.”

“Then can we watch a movie later?” Sarah asked.

“Not tonight, Boog. I didn’t have time to hook up the TV and the DVD player. Maybe tomorrow, though, huh?”

“Can we watch Star Wars?” Joseph jumped up and down in excitement.

“No! It’s my turn to pick!” Sarah complained.

“That’s right, Buddy, it’s Sarah’s turn to pick the movie. You know that. Now come on, both of you, go get some dry clothes on.” Steve waved them off toward their respective bedrooms and turned back to Bucky. “And, those are my kids.”

“They’re cute. They both look like you,” Bucky smiled.

Steve shook off the blush he could feel creeping up at the compliment, and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “So, can I offer you anything? No coffee, but I got water and juice?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ve probably overstayed my welcome as is. I should probably head out.”

“Nonsense, you just got here. And I haven’t opened my present yet.” Steve offered Bucky a chair and sat down across from him at the table, turning the box around in front of him. It was pretty sizeable for a gift from someone he barely knew.

“Oh, come on, Steve. Just rip it open already!”

“You really didn’t have to do this, you know,” Steve reiterated as he tore into the tape on one side.

“I told you, just bein’ neighborly.”

“Yeah, well, a basket of muffins would’ve sufficed.” Steve ripped the paper clear and started laughing when he saw the label on the box. “You got me a coffee maker?”

“It’s just a small one. Makes, like, four cups. And there’s some coffee inside, too, this brand we sell in the shop. Roasted right here locally.”

“This is very generous of you. Thank you.” Steve didn’t know what it was about this kid sitting in front of him, but he hadn’t felt this discombobulated since… well, he wasn’t going to finish that thought. Still, he couldn’t resist a little gentle teasing. “You realize, though, that you just got rid of my only excuse to come see you?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to blush. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, smart guy such as yourself.”

Before Steve could come up with a response, Joseph came running in, breaking the tension that had begun to build between him and Bucky. “Daddy, I’m dry now!” he announced.

“Yes, you are,” Steve chuckled. “What about your sister?”

“Here I am,” Sarah called out as she shuffled in from her room. “Dad, what are we gonna do tonight if we can’t watch TV?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “We might have to talk to each other, huh?”

Bucky moved to stand up. “I should get outta your hair. Sounds like I’m intruding on family time.”

Before Steve could answer, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw “Sam” on the caller ID as Joseph explained to Bucky that “no, _dinner time_ is family time, _after dinner_ is… something else.”

“Hey, Sam,” Steve answered. “What’s up?”

“Listen, you’re not gonna believe this.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, who pointed toward the door, indicating he was gonna head out. Steve held up one finger, imploring Bucky to wait one second, and moved into the hallway to hear Sam better. “Believe what? What’s going on?”

“So. You know who Pepper Potts is?”

Of course Steve knew who Pepper Potts was – CEO of Stark Industries and wife of the company's President, Tony Stark. The pair of them were splashed all over every newspaper and magazine in the city. “Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Well, she’s one of my newer clients. Called me to start training her after she saw that fancy web site you made me.”

“Really? That’s amazing, Sam!”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I was calling about. So, listen, she’s telling me today how she and Tony have this huge art collection, and they’ve got so many pieces now she’s got nowhere to put ‘em all, and half of ‘em are in storage just sitting there, so she’s been thinking of opening her own gallery. Show everything off, you know, maybe even sell some.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” Steve would love to visit a gallery like that; someone like Pepper was sure to have impeccable taste, and would have amassed an enviable collection.

“Then, she tells me she knows nothing about opening a gallery or anything like that, so she wants to hire someone on to help run the place. And I told her I knew just the man for the job.”

Steve felt his heart stop. Or speed up. It was hard to tell. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, you got a job interview with Pepper Potts. She’s expecting your call first thing tomorrow.”

Steve was stunned. “Sam, no, that’s crazy! I don’t know anything about running an art gallery!”

“No, but you do know art, and you’re good with people. The rest is just details, man, and you’re good with details too. You can do this. I wouldn’t have told her about you if I didn’t think you could do it.”

Steve appreciated his friend’s support, but he wasn’t so sure. “You really think I can run an art gallery? Owned by Pepper Potts, no less? Sam, her collection will be worth millions. Tens of millions. The _high_ tens of millions.”

“So what, man? Art is art. Now sac up and call her, will you? I’m gonna text you her private cell, because that’s how much I trust you.”

Steve had to lean up against the wall for a moment before his knees gave out. “This is… wow. Thank you, Sam. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say ‘thank you’ and say you’ll call her first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Sam. I will call her first thing tomorrow.”

“Good. You take care, man.”

“You too. Steve hung up, unable to believe this sudden turn of events. He had barely moved into this new apartment which had practically fallen into his lap, and now a job? It was too much; Steve was grateful to Sam, but he refused to get his hopes up.

He peeled himself off the wall and shuffled back into the living room to find the TV on and his kids curled up on either side of Bucky watching Toy Story 3. The sight tugged at his heart a little more than it should have, considering he still barely knew this guy. “What’s going on here?”

Sarah craned her head over the back of the sofa. “Bucky got the TV hooked up, Dad!”

“Is that right?” Steve came around and slotted himself in next to Sarah. He wrapped his arm around his little girl and she snuggled into him.

“Hey, sorry if I overstepped,” Bucky murmured to him. “It’s just, they were begging, and I’m good with this kinda thing, so…”

“No, man. It’s no problem. Thank you.” Steve nodded toward Bucky and turned back to the movie.

“I should get outta here, though.” Bucky leaned up and moved to get off the sofa. “I’m definitely intruding now.”

“No!” Joseph protested, tugging at Bucky’s shirt. “You gotta stay! This is the best part!”

Bucky turned and shot a questioning glance at Steve, who couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “It’s okay,” Steve told him. “Stay. Unless we’re keeping you from something?”

Bucky mulled it over for a moment. “No. Actually, no, there’s nowhere I gotta be right now.” He sat back down and Joseph immediately snuggled up against him, laying his little head in Bucky’s lap.

Yeah, this should’ve been strange, especially considering the phone call he’d just gotten. Instead, watching Toy Story 3 with Bucky, Sarah, and Joseph felt like the most natural thing in the world.

And Steve had absolutely no idea what to do with that.


	3. Chapter 3

The Stark Industries Tower was one of the most formidable buildings Steve had ever visited. He’d been to the famous skyscrapers in Manhattan – the Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, the Woolworth Building – during his time at NYU, but those visits were as a tourist. This one, though, Steve was visiting for actual business purposes. Hundreds of millions of dollars passed through this building every day, with one woman at the helm. The same woman Steve was meeting for a job interview.

To say Steve was a little shaky would be an understatement.

This was a woman who wore clothes made for her by hand by guys like Valentino and Oscar de la Renta, and Steve was meeting her in a $300 discount suit from Men’s Wearhouse. Thank God it was October, or he would be sweating right through that $300 suit. Somehow Steve’s feet remained steady enough to carry him through the crowded Manhattan streets to the information desk in the glass-domed Stark Tower lobby. A woman in a generic business uniform asked if she could help him.

“Yes, um.” Steve stopped and swallowed his nervousness; this was no time to be unsure of himself. “I have a meeting with Ms. Potts. My name is Steve Rogers.”

The woman immediately nodded and picked up her phone. “Yes, Mr. Rogers. Ms. Potts informed us you would be coming today. If you’ll wait right here for a moment, someone will be by in a minute to escort you.”

Less than thirty seconds later a husky gentleman came walking in from a hidden door to Steve’s left. He had a kind smile, but Steve could tell that the man would not hesitate to use force if the situation called for it.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.” The man held out his hand. “Happy Hogan, Head of Security here at the Stark Tower. If you’ll come with me, I’ll escort you to Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts’ residence.”

Holy shit, the meeting was in their residence? And the company’s Head of Security was personally escorting him? Steve took as inconspicuous a deep breath as he could and reminded himself once again that Ms. Potts was a client of Sam’s. There was no way she could be anything but down-to-earth if she hired a trainer like Sam. “Thank you, Mr. Hogan. I appreciate that.” Steve took his hand and shook it.

“Please, call me Happy.” He led Steve through the lobby, bypassing the main elevators completely. “So, quick tour. Main elevator banks are right here; you’ll likely be using those to reach most of the offices whenever you have business here. Ms. Potts will probably want you to have access to the private elevator too, though, since you may be working in the residence occasionally. Have her call me when you’re done; I’ll get you a badge made and scan your thumbprint before you go.”

There was a whole host of information in those few sentences that threw Steve for a loop, but one bit in particular that just plain dumbfounded him. “Thumbprint? What’s that for?”

“You’ll see,” Happy chuckled, leading Steve around the corner and toward a wall of mirrors. A lone thumbprint scanner lay in the middle of the wall, the only indication that the mirrors were not as they seemed. Happy placed his thumb on the scanner and the light turned green as it recognized his fingerprint. “It’s a little low-tech, but it gets the job done.”

Low tech? Steve had never seen anything like it in his life, and guessed the surrounding mirrored wall disguised all manner of hidden cameras and other security measures that no one would ever know about. He tried to keep his face as passive and unimpressed as possible, but probably failed.

A “ding” sounded as the mirrors parted to reveal the hidden elevator door. Happy waved Steve inside, pressing the button for the 80th floor. “This is a private express elevator, so only a few people have access, and as you’ll see it only goes to floors 75 and above. Most of the higher-ups have offices on floors 75 through 79, with the main offices for Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, and Ms. Hill on the 79th floor. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts’ penthouse is located on floors 80 and 81, which are the top floors of the main building. Floors 82 through 92 are located in the spire and are all Research and Development, which is basically just a fancy name for Mr. Stark’s various private laboratories. If you need any offices below 75, you’ll use the main elevators that we just passed.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief; this man was talking to him like he’d already started working here and was taking his first-day-at-work tour of the place. “You do realize that I haven’t gotten the job yet, right? This is only an interview.”

“If Ms. Potts asked you to come, then her mind is already made up. Believe me, this interview is just a formality.”

“But I’ve never even met her!” Steve had spoken to her on the phone for all of two minutes a few days ago, and most of the conversation had been details regarding where and when to meet. It was hardly enough for Steve to have made a good enough impression to warrant a job offer.

“I gave her your dossier day before yesterday. If she didn’t like what she saw, she wouldn’t have agreed to meet you.” Happy turned toward Steve and smiled. “Relax, Mr. Rogers. You’ll do fine.”

“My _dossier_?”

“Standard procedure for anyone working directly with the Starks. It’s mostly a compilation of public record stuff, like your recent divorce, employment history, credit history. Just making sure you are who you say you are, and that you can be trusted to work alongside one of the wealthiest women in the world handling priceless works of art and not, you know, run off with one.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

The elevator came to a soft stop as the doors opened into the foyer of one of the largest apartments Steve had ever seen. The word “apartment” was probably a misnomer, however, considering the massive square footage; Steve’s old house could’ve fit in this space several times over with room to spare. Steve glanced around and tried his best to take it all in.

A wall of windows on one side looked out over a terrace with a helicopter pad and a stunning view of Manhattan. Natural stone walls, sleek wood paneling, and a slate floor polished to a mirror shine framed a room full of mid-century modern furniture. One interior wall boasted a fully stocked bar which Steve guessed housed collection of liquor rivaling that of the most exclusive clubs in Manhattan. There was a glass and chrome stairway on the far wall leading to the upper level.

And _holy shit_ , there was a Jackson Pollack painting hanging on one wall. Steve couldn’t tell from this distance, but he would bet it was not a reproduction.

“You must be Steve.” Ms. Potts appeared seemingly out of nowhere and smiled warmly at him, holding out her hand. “I’m Pepper Potts. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Steve shook her hand, thanking the good Lord above that his palms weren’t sweating. He almost added “it’s an honor to meet you,” but stopped himself. If he was indeed going to be working with her, he didn’t want to seem intimidated by her presence. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper.” She turned toward her Head of Security. “Thanks, Happy. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Very well, Ms. Potts,” Happy nodded, departing through the private elevator.

“So,” Pepper turned toward Steve. “Would you like anything to drink? As I’m sure you can see, we’ve got pretty much anything you could ever think of.”

Steve started to say no, but changed his mind. Perhaps having a drink in his hand would keep him from being so fidgety. “Sparkling water?”

“You got it.” Pepper disappeared behind the bar for a second and searched the refrigerator, popping back up with a bottle of Pellegrino and two glasses.

“This is a very nice home you have here,” Steve remarked.

“Thank you,” Pepper smiled, handing Steve his drink. “But this isn’t really our home. Not this level, anyway. This is more of a space for entertaining. I’m sure you’ve read in the tabloids how much my husband loves his soirées.” She walked as she talked, motioning for Steve to follow. “Our home is actually up here.”

Steve followed Pepper across the room and up the stairway. They stopped in front of a section of wall with a keypad; Pepper entered a numbered code and the wall opened to reveal the space beyond. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

This area was much more understated and homey, decorated in with soft neutrals. The furniture here was modern as well, but each piece was clearly chosen for comfort and not for flash or style. A painting on the foyer wall just inside immediately caught Steve’s eye, and he gasped. “You have a Mondrian?”

“You have a good eye. Most people wouldn’t have caught that this is one of his.”

“Yes, well, he _is_ well known for his later, abstract paintings, but he got his start in more naturalistic and Impressionistic works, mostly landscapes like this one. His _Willow Grove_ is one of my favorite landscapes, actually. _Gray Tree_ is another one; I just love the cubist influence of that piece.”

Pepper grinned. “If you like those, then I’ll bet you’ll love this one.” She led him through the foyer and past the sitting room where a Rothko hung above the fireplace as casually as if it were a $40 mirror from Ikea, and into what appeared to be a library. Walls full of bookshelves stuffed to the brim surrounded a well-worn leather sofa that sat below a dark, muted landscape.

“Are you kidding me?” he gaped. “That’s a van Gogh!”

Pepper nodded. “I got it at auction a few years back, and it is one of my favorites. Tony likes the more flashy stuff, like the Pollock I’m sure you saw downstairs, but I just love the more subdued colors of this piece. I find it calming.”

“I’ll venture a guess that this one isn’t going in your gallery?” Steve joked.

“You’d guess correctly,” Pepper nodded. “Come on, I’ll show you some of the ones that will.”

 

*

 

Steve hadn’t had such fun not involving his kids in ages. Pepper had entire rooms in her home stacked full of paintings that had no place to be hung, and even more still in a storage facility off-site. Even if this day didn’t lead to a job offer, getting a personal tour of Pepper’s collection had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“I feel bad for these paintings,” she told him. “Art is meant to be enjoyed, and here I am hoarding all this stuff like the art apocalypse is coming or something.”

“So why not sell them?” he’d suggested.

“That’s just it! I can’t bring myself to sell them either. I mean, I probably need to sell some of them, but I acquired each and every one of these because I love them, because they speak to me. It’d feel like selling my children or something.”

“Point taken,” Steve laughed. “But why open a gallery? Why not donate them to a museum? You could probably have your own wing at the Met with the stuff you’ve got here.”

“I thought about it. But the museum thing seemed kind of, I don’t know… pretentious? Like it would be more about bragging about how much money Tony and I have. Like, _‘Look at how rich we are! We have our own wing at the Met!_ ’ A gallery seemed more down to earth, I guess. This way I can enjoy my paintings whenever I want, along with everyone else, but it’s more on my terms.”

“Wanting to do things on your own terms is definitely something I’m familiar with,” Steve replied solemnly.

“Okay, business time. The bottom line is, I like you, Steve, and I want you to run this gallery. It will be a subsidiary of Stark Industries. I'm prepared to offer you a starting salary $120,000 a year, which I think you'll find competitive with some of the other higher-end galleries in town. We can talk budget, possible locations, and staffing later. Right now, I just want you on board.”

Steve was stunned. That was three, almost four times as much as he’d made as a teacher all those years ago. And that was the other thing. “Listen, Pepper. I’m not saying no, but… you realize I haven’t had a job for the past nine years?”

Pepper frowned. “Honestly, I don’t care about your employment history; I care about whether or not you can do the job. Look, I don’t want this place to be some cold, generic space run by some businessman. I want it to feel like a home. You’ve proven to me these past few hours that you have a good eye, and your scope of knowledge is remarkable. You’re very personable, so you’ll have no trouble getting local artists to exhibit. You have a great eye for detail, so I know you’ll have no problems with the day-to-day aspects of running a business. And I just plain like you, so say yes already, will you?”

Steve still hesitated. Everything Pepper was offering sounded amazing, but there was still one more thing to consider. Two more things, to be accurate. “Can I think about it? It’s just, this is all happening so fast, and I need time to figure out what I’m gonna do about the kids.”

“Take whatever time you need. We won’t be opening for several months anyway, so as long as we keep on track, I don’t mind if you need to take off early now and then.”

The implication was clear; Steve had a little leeway, but he needed to figure something out fast. Still, with the salary she was offering, he could afford after-school care. The thought of not being home when his kids got off from school was a little crushing, but then again, getting a job was inevitable, and it’s not like he would never see his kids. The good thing about this particular job was that small art galleries usually had pretty reasonable hours, so he would still be home for dinner and homework and family time.

Steve’s heart pounded in his chest as he realized he’d come to a decision without really meaning to. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe it! She even gave me a check to cover my ‘expenses,’ whatever that means.”

Steve had barely made it out of the building before he picked up his phone to call Sam. The whole experience had been so surreal. Spending half his day in the private residence of the CEO of one of the largest corporations in the world _and_ getting to look at her personal collection of priceless works of art? If Steve didn’t have his brand new ID badge in his pocket, he’d probably think the whole thing had been a dream.

“See, man, I told you you had this. I knew she’d love you.”

“And she mentioned staff! I’m actually gonna be hiring people to work for me!”

“So when does this whole thing roll out?”

“I’ll be going in first thing Monday to meet with Maria Hill, Tony’s second-in-command. Pepper said Maria has a list of properties owned by Stark that aren’t currently in use; I figure we could start there before scouting outside locations. Stark has their own team of architects and contractors, so once we find a location it should move pretty quickly.”

“Listen to you! You got tons of ideas already, don’t you?”

Steve laughed to himself and shook his head. “I do, actually. It’ll depend on how much space we can get, but I do have a few ideas.” He already knew how he wanted to group the paintings he’d seen as well as the ones Pepper mentioned she had off-site. Pepper’s paintings would likely be the real draw for visitors so they would go in the rear of the gallery, while the local artists would be featured up front. Steve also secretly hoped that they’d have enough space to have some sort of classroom for an after-school art program for kids. He hadn’t mentioned it to Pepper, but he had a feeling she’d go for it. “I just can’t believe this is happening, you know?”

“Believe it, my friend. See, good things _do_ happen to good people.”

“Well, thank you again. If it weren’t for you I’d probably have ended up waiting tables somewhere and working two jobs. I owe you, Sam.

“Nah, man. Listen, I just had a famous actor who shall remain nameless call me to train him for his next movie because Tony mentioned my name at a party. _That_ wouldn’t have happened without you. So what do you say we call it even?”

“Alright, then.”

“Drinks are on you next time, though, Mr. Moneybags.”

Steve chuckled. “Now that, I can do.”

“Alright, man, catch you later.”

“Bye, Sam.” Steve hung up and turned his face toward the afternoon sunlight and just breathed. In a million years, he never would’ve guessed that he’d be doing this. Running an art gallery and curating Pepper Potts’ art collection was like the dream job he never knew he wanted. Aside from raising his kids, that is.

He couldn’t wait to get home and tell the kids.

 _Home_ , Steve thought. Yeah, the place did already feel like home, didn’t it? After he picked the kids up they should stop by the Coffee Shop and celebrate with hot chocolate and pumpkin spice muffins. Then maybe they’d stop by the market and pick up whatever the kids wanted for dinner. They could afford it now, after all.

 

*

 

Forty-five minutes later Steve had barely gotten to the front gate of the school when Joseph came running toward him, a piece of paper flapping wildly in his tiny hand. “Daddy! Daddy, look! I made a tree!”

Steve took the piece of paper from his son, his heart melting at the drawing hand-painted by his son. The tree trunk was traced in the shape of Joseph’s forearm, with his hand and fingers forming the tree branches; the falling leaves were made of his son’s fingerprints in (presumably) a rainbow of fall colors. Steve hated in moments like this that he couldn’t see the reds and oranges that surely dotted his son’s art.

It was still cute as hell, though.

“Buddy, this is amazing! Did you paint this all by yourself?”

“Uh-huh! Miss Janet traced around my hand and I painted the tree myself. And I got to fingerpaint and everything!”

“You know what? I think this is the prettiest painting I’ve seen all day.” Steve crouched down and smiled at his son, who beamed at him. “I think this needs to hang up in our new apartment, don’t you think?”

“Can you hang it in your room, Daddy?”

“My room? You don’t want to hang it in the living room or the hallway where everyone can see it?”

Joseph frowned. “No, Daddy. I made it just for you.”

Well, damn, who could say no to that? “You know what? I’d be honored to hang this in my room. Why don’t you keep it safe for me until we can pick out a frame for it, huh?”

Steve was suddenly knocked over when an enthusiastic nine-year-old threw her arms around him and tried to jump on his back. “Dad! I made 100 on my math test!”

“You did? That’s good work, Boogaloo. See, I told you you could do it.” He turned around and gave his daughter a proper hug, and stood up to face his kids. “You know what? I think this calls for a celebration. What do you say we go get some hot chocolates and some pumpkin spice muffins?”

“Can I get chocolate instead?”

“I want blueberry!”

Steve feigned offense. “How can you not want pumpkin? Pumpkin is the best!”

“No, Daddy, chocolate is the best!”

“Yeah, Dad. Pumpkin’s gross.”

“It tastes like vegetables!”

“Well we sure don’t want that.” Steve held out his hands and they each took one as they made their way through the after school crowd and back toward the Coffee Shop. “Don’t want to accidentally eat something healthy, now, do we?”

“Dad, are you taking us to the Coffee Shop that’s downstairs from our house?” Sarah asked as they rounded the corner and spotted their building.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Why?”

“Because that’s where Bucky works!”

“Daddy, we goin’ to see Bucky?” Joseph began to jump up and down in excitement.

“You guys liked hanging out with him the other night?” Steve asked as nonchalantly as he could, refusing to admit that he sounded suspiciously like a high school kid who’s just heard his crush’s name mentioned and is trying to hide how affected he is.

“Yeah, we like Bucky. He makes you laugh,” Sarah replied, squeezing her Dad’s hand. Sometimes she was far too wise for her nine years.

“He was funny, Daddy!” Joseph giggled.

“Well, I guess we’d better go say hello to him, then, shouldn’t we?” Steve opened the Coffee Shop door and waved his kids inside. They immediately ran up to the pastry case, getting their finger- and nose-prints all over the glass as they began salivating over the confections within. Steve spotted Natasha behind the counter, and tried not to look disappointed as he smiled and waved.

“Hey, looking sharp, Steve. These little monsters are yours, I presume?” Natasha grinned and waved back, eyes dancing with amusement that assured Steve she was only joking.

“Hey, Natasha. Meet Sarah and Joseph.” Steve placed a hand on his children’s shoulders as he introduced them. “Kids, this is Natasha, the lady that owns our new house. She also owns this coffee shop.”

“I like your hair,” Sarah smiled shyly.

“Thanks.” Natasha folded her arms across the counter and leaned over to bring herself eye-level with Sarah. “I like yours too. Don’t think I’d look good as a blonde though. Not nearly as pretty as you do.”

Joseph grabbed Steve’s shirt and began tugging frantically before Steve could register just how heart-meltingly sweet that comment was. “Daddy! Daddy, can I have a chocolate chip cookie instead?”

“Ooh, me to. Me too.” Sarah began bouncing on her heels.

“Okay, then.” Steve turned to Natasha. “Three hot chocolates and three chocolate chip cookies.”

“You got it,” Natasha winked, and turned around to get started on their order.

Steve turned back to his kids. “You guys wanna go find us a place to sit?”

He couldn’t help but giggle as he watched them take off running across the shop to carry out their instructions, methodically trying each seat in the café until they decided on the perfect spot by the window.

“So, what brings you three here today, and why are you dressed like you stepped straight out of GQ?” Natasha asked as she steamed a large canister of milk.

“We're celebrating. Joseph’s the number one artist in his class, Sarah got 100 on her math test, and I got a job.”

“Really?” Natasha beamed at him. “Congratulations! So where’s the lucky place that gets to see your handsome face every day?”

Steve felt himself blush, and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. He suspected it would be a long while before it wasn’t weird to say it out loud. “I’ll be working for Pepper Potts, actually. She’s opening an art gallery. I’ll be the director, I guess. Or curator. Something like that. I honestly don’t know what my title is going to be,” he laughed.

“Well, whatever your title is, that sounds amazing. Hell, I’d love to go to that gallery and I don’t know a damn thing about art.”

“I just hope I can do justice to her collection. I think I got my work cut out for me.”

“Yeah, but something tells me you’ll rise to the challenge.” Natasha set three steaming mugs and three plates of cookies on a tray in front of Steve. “That’s fifteen eighty-nine.”

“Hey, what happened to ‘it’s on the house’?” Steve joked.

“Are you kidding? You work for one of the richest women on the planet now. I should start charging you double.”

Steve laughed and handed her a twenty. “So, where’s Bucky? I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.”

“He gets off at two. You missed him by about 45 minutes,” Natasha replied, handing him his change.

He stuffed the money in his wallet, hoping his face didn’t betray how much those words made his heart sink.

 

*

 

The next day school was out due to a teacher inservice; Steve wasn’t starting his job until Monday, so he promised the kids they’d spend the day doing fun stuff. Homework, _work_ work, and unpacking were not allowed. It was the perfect opportunity to explore Prospect Park, Steve decided. After a quick stop at the Coffee Shop for breakfast, of course.

Hey, the kids suggested it. That was how Steve justified it, anyway.

He only spent a _little_ more time than usual getting ready, picking out his favorite pair of khaki pants and a blue button-down that matched his eyes, before he let the kids drag him out the door. They were just going for coffee and hot chocolate and muffins, that was it. No ulterior motive. No reason to be nervous.

Shit, why was he nervous? This was stupid. It's not like he had a crush on this kid. He just wanted to see him, was all. Thank him again for the coffee pot.

Steve didn’t know whether it was relief or disappointment that he felt when they walked inside the café and once again spotted Natasha behind the counter.

“Just can’t stay away, can you, Rogers?” she smirked.

“Well, you can’t beat this place for convenience, that’s for sure. The kids asked to come, though. Won’t shut up about how much better your hot chocolate is than mine.”

“I knew your kids were smart. So, three?”

“Two. And a coffee, please. What kind of muffins do you guys want?” he asked the kids.

“Chocolate!”

“Blueberry!”

“And pumpkin spice for me,” Steve added.

“Coming right up,” Natasha nodded.

“So, where’s your help this morning?” Steve asked as casually as possible, not wanting to mention Bucky by name but finding himself unable to keep himself from asking altogether.

“I sent Hank to the store for more milk; he should be back any minute. Bucky’s off today, so he’s probably with Becca.”

 _Becca_. That word that Natasha tossed out so nonchalantly just sliced right through Steve’s gut.

So Bucky had a girlfriend, then. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. It’s not like Steve liked the guy or anything. They were just friends.

So why did Steve suddenly feel like shit?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a whole lot of fluff with a tiny bit of plot.

Bucky was always up at 4 a.m. on the days he had to work, since he had to open the Coffee Shop at 5 with Nat. Friday was his day off, though, so he allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in an extra hour. He didn’t want to stay in bed too late, because his mother always worked a double shift on Fridays, and if Bucky didn’t get up and make breakfast he knew his mom would forget to eat until lunch.

Winifred shuffled into the kitchen around 5:30, already in her pink scrubs with her long chestnut hair twisted neatly into a bun. “Morning, sweetie.” She patted Bucky on the shoulder as she passed him to grab her travel coffee mug. “Smells good. What’cha making?”

“Omelets. I thought I’d use the last of that steak from the fajitas we made the other night.”

Winnie glanced over her son’s shoulder at the pan on the stove. “Those are huge! There’s no way I’ll be able to finish that.”

Bucky shrugged. “So take the leftovers to work with you, finish it on your break. You gotta have some protein, though. I can’t have you taking care of those little babies in the NICU on just coffee and yogurt, Ma. Now eat. There are lives at stake,” he insisted as he handed her a plate.

Winnie rolled her eyes playfully as she took her breakfast and headed to the kitchen table. “Are you seriously telling me that your omelets are a matter of life and death?”

“Hey, how many people can say that their cooking literally saves lives? You’re lucky you have me,” he joked as he sat across from her and dug in.

Winnie smiled. “Yes, I am. How’d you get to be so sweet, anyway?”

“Learned it from my best gal,” he winked.

“Oh? When do I get to meet her?”

“Ma,” he groaned.

“I’m joking, sweetie,” Winnie giggled. “So, what are you and your sister gonna get up to today?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s supposed to be nice out today, so it’d be a good day for the zoo, but I don’t want to do that without you. I thought maybe we’d go to the park and play on the playground for a bit, maybe stop by one of the off-leash areas and watch the dogs. She loved that last time.”

“Just make sure you bring sunscreen. Just because it’s not summer doesn’t mean she can’t still get sunburn.”

“Ma, I know. Don’t worry, I got this. She’s in good hands.”

“I know she is. But I’m a mother; it’s my job to nag.”

Winnie was silent for a moment as she polished off a few more bites, but Bucky could tell by the way she kept glancing up at him that there was more she wanted to say. “Okay, Ma. Just spit it out.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “I ran into to Mr. Pierce yesterday. He said you turned down his job offer.”

“Ma, we’ve been over this. I _have_ a job…”

“Yes, making minimum wage at a coffee shop. I know you love it there, but at some point…”

“There was no way Pierce would’ve let me have Fridays off. You know that.”

“Then we would’ve figured something else out! Honey, I love you, but I don’t want you to keep putting your life on hold for us.”

Bucky set his silverware down and took his mother’s hand. “I’m not putting my life on hold, Ma. You guys _are_ my life. Besides, I would’ve hated working for Pierce. Working in some office 9 to 5, that’s just not me.”

“Just promise me…” Winnie sighed and squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Just promise me that you’ll think about it, okay? If not this job, then something else. Keep an open mind, huh?”

Bucky nodded, knowing when to let an argument go. “I will.”

Winnie stood up and kissed Bucky on the top of his head. “I’d better go pee before I head out. You know how the subway is.”

“Ma, TMI.”

“Oh, hush. Do we need to have the ‘everybody pees’ discussion again?” Winnie teased as she retreated to her bedroom.

“Well, it was so much fun the first time,” Bucky called out, reaching for his mom’s plate to pack up her leftovers.

He knew it was unconventional, their situation, but he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Getting to spend as much time as he did with his sister, watching her grow up before his very eyes - if he’d had it to do all over again, he would’ve made exactly the same choice.

As if on cue the little girl in question began to stir, crying out from her toddler bed. Bucky set his mom’s leftover breakfast and her lunch on the counter by her keys and went to check on his little princess. He turned on her bedroom light, smiling as he saw her sitting up in her bed whining and rubbing her eyes. She always did wake up cranky. As soon as she saw Bucky, though, she held out her arms to him.

“Hey, Becca,” he murmured as he picked her up. “You ready to spend the day with your favorite brother?”

She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, sniffling away the last of her early morning tears.

“I guess that’s a yes, then.”

 

*

 

Bucky hadn’t expected Prospect Park to be as crowded as it was. Well, it wasn’t _crowded_ per se, but there were definitely more people here than he’d expected. He’d taken Becca to the Harmony Playground because he’d figured it would be less crowded than the Garfield Tot Lot, being a school day, but there were way more kids here than he’d expected. Maybe it was Fall Break or something?

He was just about to pack Becca back up and take her to the toddler playground when he was attacked by a small blur with shaggy brown hair. “Bucky! We didn’t know you’d be here!”

Bucky looked down to see whose arms were wrapped around his legs. “Hey! Joseph, right?”

Joseph let go and turned around. “Daddy, look, it’s Bucky!”

Bucky glanced up to see Steve and his daughter – Sarah, he remembered – coming his way. Steve had on a blue shirt that was just a teeny bit too tight and clung to his muscles in all the right places, and good _God_ , the man was handsome. How was it possible for someone that handsome to exist?

“Hey there! You lose something?” Bucky called out, pointing at the child attempting to climb on his legs.

“Joseph, please let go of Bucky,” Steve groaned.

“It’s okay,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m used to it.”

Steve smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in the sun. “Well, this is a surprise. Looks like you had the same idea we did.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think there’d be this many people here. What’s up with that? Hey, how come you guys aren’t in school?”

“The teachers all have school today, but we don’t,” Sarah told him. Bucky looked at Steve questioningly.

“Teacher inservice,” Steve explained. “Thought we’d take advantage of the nice weather and check this place out.”

“Daddy, can we go play now?”

“Yeah, you guys go play. Just stay where I can see you, okay?”

“Okay!” They ran off without another word.

“So what brings you to the playground today?” Steve asked him. “You don’t really seem like the swinging type.”

Bucky feigned a scandalized look. “Mr. Rogers! Don’t you think that’s more of a third-date question?”

Steve’s faced reddened visibly as he realized what he’d just said. It was adorable. “Oh! I didn’t mean it like that. I just…”

Bucky laughed. “It’s okay. I knew what you meant. I just couldn’t resist.” He waved his sister over from where she was seated on the ground playing with leaves. She stood up and waddled over into his waiting arms. “This is Becca, my baby sister.”

“Becca,” Steve breathed, an expression of relief momentarily crossing his face. Bucky wondered what that was about, and decided to file it away for later.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Steve continued.

“Yep. I watch her every Friday while Ma does a double shift at the hospital. We’re best buds, aren’t we, Becs?”

“Bes’ buds!” Becca echoed.

Steve laughed. “She’s adorable. How old is she?”

“Just turned 2. Growing like a weed, too. She’ll be driving before I know it.”

“You’re right about that. Just yesterday Sharon and I were bringing that one home from the hospital.” Steve nodded toward his daughter. She smiled at him and he waved back, a huge grin splitting his face.

Bucky had thought Steve was hot from the moment he’d first laid eyes on the guy. But Daddy Steve? That was a whole other level of attractiveness. Bucky was almost afraid to admit it, but he already couldn’t get enough of this man standing next to him smiling at his children like they were his whole world.

What must it be like to have that smile directed at him?

Bucky shook off the thought and set Becca down, watching her waddle away. He and Steve began strolling behind her toward the playground equipment.

“Hey! I forgot to tell you!” Steve exclaimed suddenly, smacking Bucky on the pectoral. “We stopped by the Coffee Shop yesterday, but you’d already left.”

“Oh, yeah? Sorry I missed you guys. I’m only there ‘til 2.” Bucky’s skin tingled from the brief contact, even through two layers of shirt. That was the first time Steve had ever touched him. He already wanted more.

“Yeah, Natasha told me. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I got a job!”

“You did? That’s great! Doing what?”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “Running an art gallery. Can you believe it?”

“Which one?”

“We’re opening a new one, starting from the ground up. I’m pretty excited about it, actually.”

“I can tell,” Bucky smiled. Steve’s enthusiasm was infectious. “So who’s ‘we’?”

Steve looked at Bucky for a beat, pausing for dramatic effect. “Pepper Potts.”

“No shit? That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe it. Now I just gotta figure out what to do with Sarah and Joseph after school. She gave me a few weeks to get things worked out, but it’ll be tough trying to vet babysitters and after-school programs _and_ starting a new job all at once.”

Oh, God. Bucky was crazy. He was insane, and he should keep his mouth shut. But damn this adorable man and his adorable puppy-dog eyes. “You know, if you want, you could call me. I get off at 2 every day, so I could pick your kids up from school and watch ‘em ‘til you get home. If you’re in a pinch or something. You know, until you find something permanent.” Hey, his Ma had said he needed to keep an open mind for new job opportunities, right? That’s all he was doing.

“What about Becca?” Steve asked him.

“She’s at Mother’s Day Out most days, and Ma picks her up on her way home from work. But I could always bring her with me, you know, if you needed me on a Friday or something. That is, as long as you don’t mind three kids in your home instead of two.”

“You don’t have classes or anything? I don’t want to put you out.”

“Nah, I graduated a few years ago. And I wouldn’t have offered if you were putting me out.”

Steve watched his kids for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “Thanks. I’ll uh, I’ll think about it, okay? It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just…”

“It’s okay. Nobody but you has ever watched them before, right? I totally understand. But here, give me your phone.” Bucky took Steve’s phone out of his hands and entered his contact information. “Here’s my number, just in case. I’m serious; call me if you need me, okay? And if not, that’s okay too.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded.

Bucky needed to get his head examined. Steve was getting over a divorce. A divorce from a _woman_. There was no way he’d be interested in being with a man. A younger man, at that. But there was just something about him that Bucky couldn’t ignore, and couldn’t walk away from.

He really hoped Steve would call him, even if it was just to babysit. At this point, he’d take what time he could get with Steve.

Yeah, he was crazy. He barely knew this guy, and he was already in deep.

 

* * *

 

“So, you and Becca… that’s quite an age difference, huh?”

“Yeah. You might say that.” Bucky shot Steve a sideways glance as they strolled along the park’s path. The Harmony playground had apparently gotten “boring,” so the kids had jumped at Bucky's suggestion of exploring the rest of Prospect Park. The older two had run ahead, with Becca waddling along behind her two new best friends. “She wasn’t exactly planned, as you probably guessed.”

“I’m also guessing your dad’s not in the picture?” Steve must’ve noticed the look of contempt that flashed across Bucky’s face at the mention of their father, because he instantly looked contrite. “Hey, I’m sorry. That’s too personal. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s just… look at her, right? How could a person not want someone like that in their life?”

Steve shrugged. “Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents, I guess.”

“Yeah, well some people should keep it in their pants, then.” Bucky huffed. “Becca and I wouldn’t be here if he had, though, so there is a teeny part of me that feels I should be grateful. I just wish he hadn’t been such an asshole to Ma when he left both times.”

“ _Both_ times?”

“Yeah, he first took off after I came along. I saw him maybe once when I was 12 or 13. Then my last year in college he suddenly shows up, says he wants to get to know me and Ma again, make up for lost time and all that.” Bucky kicked a rock off the path into the grass. “I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”

Steve nodded. “Your mother got pregnant and he took off again?”

“I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, you know? He and Ma were so young when they married; I thought maybe he’d grown up, like maybe life had knocked him down a few notches and he was ready to be there, for good this time. I should’ve just told him to shove it.”

“You’re good with Becca, though. She clearly adores you.”

Bucky appreciated Steve’s change of subject, even if the compliment made him blush. “Yeah. That kid’s my life, you know? I mean, I know she’s not mine, but I can’t imagine my life without her now.”

“I know what you mean. Sarah wasn’t exactly planned either. We wanted to wait a few more years, but you know what they say about how life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

“Yeah.” Bucky huffed out a laugh. “My plan was to teach English abroad for a few years after I graduated college. Had a job lined up and everything. But then Ma got pregnant and George took off, and that was it. I got Nat to switch my hours around so I could help out with Becs and I never looked back.”

Steve stopped and gaped at Bucky. “You gave up your dream job to help raise your sister?”

Bucky shrugged. “Ma gave up plenty to raise me; I was just returnin’ the favor. Besides, Becca won’t be little forever. Europe will still be there.”

“Wow. That’s amazing, Bucky.”

“Nah, not really.” Bucky saw the look Steve shot him and waved him off. “Come on. What I did wasn’t any different than what you did, quitting your job so you could stay home with Sarah. Admit it.”

“Actually, they are completely different. I wasn’t raising another man’s child.”

Before Bucky could come up with a good answer to dismiss how not-a-big-deal that was, Joseph came running up to Steve. “Daddy, I’m hungry.”

Steve glanced at his watch. “It is almost lunch time. Should we go find somewhere to eat?”

All three kids echoed a resounding “Yes!” Steve glanced at Bucky and cocked his eyebrow in a silent “Well, what do you think?”

Bucky looked at Becca, who was holding hands with Sarah and dancing in excitement over getting to eat with her new buddies, and there was no way he could say no to that face. Or the face of the man standing next to him with such a hopeful expression that melted Bucky to the core, despite the fact that just a while ago that same man had dismissed Bucky’s babysitting offer. It hadn’t bothered him at all, but it did certainly make him wonder just what had changed.

Regardless, there were three hungry children and one grown man all looking at him for an answer. “I know a good deli not too far from here, if you want to go grab some sandwiches.”

“Sounds perfect.” Steve’s eyes shined as he smiled at Bucky. Those eyes matched his shirt perfectly. It wasn’t fair.

Bucky was so fucked.

 

*

 

“Salad? Really, Steve?” Bucky just couldn’t resist teasing the man. Getting a rise out of Steve was quickly becoming his new favorite pastime.

“What? What’s wrong with salad?”

“You’re in one of the best delis in Brooklyn. You can’t order lettuce with olive oil! It’s sacrilege!”

“Shut up.” Steve blushed and concentrated on cutting his salad into tiny pieces with his plastic silverware. Watching Steve blush was maybe Bucky’s second-favorite pastime.

“Yeah, Dad. You should’ve gotten hot dogs like me and Sarah!” Joseph kicked his legs under the table, accidentally hitting Bucky’s shin in the process, and took another too-big bite.

“Order 237 up!”

“Be right back.” Bucky scooted back from the table and jogged up to the counter to grab his and Becca’s sandwiches.

“I’ll have you know,” Steve continued the second Bucky sat back down, “that I happen to like salad. And I haven’t been able to go running every morning like I used to, so I have to be more careful now.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky laughed as he tore Becca’s grilled cheese into bite-sized pieces. “I’m just jerking your chain.”

“What’s ‘jerking your chain,’ Dad?” Sarah asked, frowning at Steve.

“It means he’s teasing. It means there’s nothing wrong with eating healthy, Boog. Hey!” Steve frowned, pointing at Bucky’s sandwich with his fork.

“What?”

“You’re giving me a hard time about my salad and you got a turkey sandwich?”

“What’s wrong with turkey, huh?” Bucky asked, pulling half the meat off his sandwich like he always did.

“Nothing, I just figured you for a pastrami-and-sauerkraut kind of guy, that’s all.”

Bucky tore his extra turkey into small bites and placed them in front of Becca, who immediately dug in. “I _do_ like pastrami,” he explained, “but turkey is pretty much the only meat Becs will eat, so that’s what I usually get.”

“Can Becca eat hot dogs?” Sarah asked.

“She can, she just doesn’t like ‘em,” Bucky explained. “She got sick after eating hot dogs a while back, and now she won’t touch ‘em.”

Sarah made a face. “I threw up after eating ham at Easter, and I don’t like it anymore.”

“I threw up macaroni and cheese at pre-K last year, but I still like Daddy’s,” Joseph piped up.

“Oh, yeah? Your Daddy makes good macaroni and cheese?”

“He makes it with chicken and broccoli,” Sarah shrugged. “But it’s still good.”

“And bacon!” Joseph added emphatically.

“Hey, a man after my own heart.” Bucky glanced over at Steve as he held out his fist and Joseph bumped it; Steve was just sitting there watching the whole exchange, his chin resting in his hand and his eyes soft and thoughtful, a smile playing at his lips. In fact, Bucky had never seen Steve this relaxed; it was nice. Perhaps a day in the park had done him some good. In fact, Bucky thought, maybe after lunch they could all take the subway to the Brooklyn Bridge Park, right there on the riverfront. Steve and the kids would love that.

Unfortunately, Becca had other plans; she had barely finished her food when she started rubbing at her eyes and crying. “Uh-oh,” Steve grinned. “Looks like somebody needs a nap.”

“Yeah, and it looks like somebody’s got terrible timing, too,” Bucky grumbled. He scooped Becca into his arms and polished off the rest of his sandwich in two bites while she wrapped her arms around his neck and fought tooth and nail not to fall asleep. “I’d better get her home and put her to bed. Sorry, guys.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Steve scooted his chair away from the table and helped Bucky get Becca’s stuff together. “This was fun. I’m really glad we ran into you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You working tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Now Bucky knew he was fucked over this guy, because this whole conversation was starting to sound like the end of a date.

“Maybe we’ll see you around, then.” Steve offered Bucky his hand.

It wasn’t a kiss, but it was definitely more than Bucky had expected when he’d woken up that morning so he'd take it. “I certainly hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Becca was out like a light before Bucky had even made it back to the apartment. He laid her in her bed, pulling her afghan over her – a birthday gift from her Aunty Nat – and stood there for a moment, watching her breathe. She smiled as she slept, almost as if she was dreaming about how much fun she’d had with the Rogers family.

 _Yeah, kid_ , Bucky thought to himself, _I’m with you there._

If he could’ve found some way to let her nap while he continued to hang out with Steve and the kids some more, he would’ve done it. But that little angel right there, she came first - over Bucky’s needs, his wants, and _definitely_ his libido. Bucky’s crush on the handsome single dad would have to take a backseat for the moment. He’d given Steve his phone number, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but he suspected from the way Steve had looked at him when they’d parted that all of his flirting might be starting to make a dent. All he could do for now was sit and wait, though.

In the meantime, however, he _had_ to find something to do to calm himself down. Being so close to Steve all morning, even with the kids around, had left Bucky half hard and fully frustrated. He absolutely refused to go jerk off while his baby sister slept in the next room, though, so he headed to the kitchen instead. He pulled a jar of yeast out of the refrigerator, flour and salt from the cupboard, and set out to make some homemade bread. The measuring, mixing, and kneading would take his mind off things.

It wasn’t nearly enough, though. A few minutes later the dough was rising and Bucky was left to find something else to while away the afternoon until Becca woke up. He could pull out his laptop and work on his Italian language lesson; he’d just finished level 2 a few days ago and was eager to get started on level 3, but he knew there was no way his mind would be able to focus on that today. The apartment was clean, laundry was caught up, and it was too early to start dinner. This sucked.

He flopped down on the sofa and scrolled through Netflix, finally settling on one of the Bourne movies. Young Matt Damon; that would do nicely for some distraction.

He wondered how shirtless Steve would compare to shirtless Matt.

Fuck, he couldn’t even watch a damn movie. It was gonna be a long afternoon.

 

*

 

Bucky had just put dinner in the oven when Nat texted him.

_Nat: Dinner?_

_Bucky: In the oven. Come on over._

_Nat: on my way_

She could tell something was up from the moment she walked in the door and scooped Becca up into her arms. “You made a casserole? What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong. I made dinner. I do it all the time.”

“Dinner, yes. This is comfort food.”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I just, I ran into Steve today. He mentioned this recipe. Well, his kids did. Thought I’d try it out. That’s all.”

“You hung out with Steve and his kids today?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“’Teve!” Becca exclaimed.

“Yeah?” Nat bounced Becca up and down. “Did you meet Steve today, Peanut?”

“Park!” Becca kicked her feet wildly against Nat’s belly.

“You and Steve went to the park together?” Nat turned back toward Bucky, her eyes dancing with amusement. “That’s so cute.”

Bucky rolled his eyes in an exaggerated motion, and headed to the refrigerator. Maybe if he busied himself with getting drinks and condiments he wouldn’t let on just how much he wished that his day with Steve had been an actual date and not an accidental meeting. “Nat, it wasn’t like that. I took Becca to the park, we ran into Steve and the kids there. We hung out for a bit and had lunch. That’s all.”

“Oh, well, good. That’s good.” Nat nodded, her expression thoughtful.

“Why?”

“You know – recently divorced, new in town, just him and his kids. He basically had to give up his whole life to take care of them, you know?” Nat shrugged. “He’s just seems kinda lonely, that’s all.”

Bucky turned Nat’s words over in his mind as he thought about the man he’d spent the better part of the morning with. How Steve had taken picture after picture of Joseph and Sarah playing, his azure eyes shining as he showed each and every one to Bucky even though Bucky had been right there the whole time. How Steve had joined Joseph on the monkey bars and “tried” to do flips and twists like his son but somehow couldn’t manage to do them as well as Joseph had, leaving his son in stitches as Steve contorted himself over and over. How Steve joined Sarah in the grass and did cartwheels with her even though he very nearly pulled a groin muscle several times.

Those kids were his sun and moon, his day and night, his heart and soul.

“No, you’re wrong. He didn’t give up his life to take care of his kids. Those kids _are_ his life.” Bucky smiled wistfully. “I get the feeling that he’d be perfectly content being on his own forever as long as his kids were happy.”

Nat stared at Bucky for a long minute, and grinned. “Oh my god, I knew it! You’ve got it _bad_.”

“What?” Bucky spluttered. “I don’t, I’m not…”

“Come on, Bucky. Don’t even try to deny it. You are so far gone on Steve Rogers, I’d say it was pathetic if I didn’t think you two were so perfect for each other.”

Bucky sunk against the counter, part relieved that he didn’t have to try and hide it anymore, part petrified that now she was going to try to push for Bucky to make a move when he wasn’t completely sure Steve was ready for that. Or that _he_ was ready for that.

“That’s the thing, though. We’re not. Perfect for each other.” Bucky sighed. “I mean, Steve’s a grown-up! Like, an actual adult. Not some part-time coffee barista who still lives with his mom.”

“Bucky, for fuck’s sake…”

“Language!” Bucky hissed, gesturing at the two-year-old on Natasha’s hip who was just starting to repeat stuff she heard.

“Like she hasn’t heard worse from you! But Bucky, come on. You work 40 hours a week. You know that’s not part-time, right? That’s an actual full-time job. Just because it’s not the one you’d rather be doing…”

Bucky ignored her last comment and continued. “And like you said, he just got divorced. From a _woman_. His college sweetheart. In fact, I’d bet my next paycheck that she’s the only woman he’s ever…” Bucky glanced at his baby sister, censoring himself at the last moment. “Ever… _you know_. He’s a good guy, Nat.”

“What, and you’re not?”

Bucky shook his head dejectedly. “Not like him.”

“Okay, listen to me because I’m only going to say this once. You are a goddamn idiot.”

“Nat!” Bucky gestured once again at his sister, who was resting comfortably on Nat’s hip and chewing on her own fist.

“You are an idiot, because while you’ve been so busy making googly eyes at him… don’t give me that look, you’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are… while you’ve been so busy making eyes at him you somehow failed to notice that he looks at you the exact same way. I don’t think he realizes it yet, but he does.”

Bucky thought back over his encounters with Steve, but still couldn’t see what Natasha was seeing. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to be patient and give it some time, but I’m pretty sure he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, then _he’s_ an idiot.”

“Be patient?” That was not what Bucky wanted to hear.

“Yes, I know patience is not your strong suit when it comes to your… _little Bucky_.” Natasha took her free hand, the one that wasn’t carrying Becca, and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “But don’t you think he’s worth it?”

 

* * *

 

Bucky hated Saturdays at the Coffee Shop. For one, they were busy as fuck. Not that it wasn’t busy during the week, but that was mostly regulars who stopped by on their way to work. Bucky knew all of them, and liked chatting with most of them. Saturdays, on the other hand, were always full of young hipsters who liked to spend all day using the free Wi-Fi and playing with their newest iWhatevers while they drank their froofy barely-any-coffee drinks and didn’t leave any goddamn tips.

It was torture.

It was Bucky’s tradeoff for having Fridays off, though, so he’d suffer through it and keep his mouth shut. And it kept his mind from dwelling on a certain hot single father for a few hours, so that was a plus.

Until he glanced up at the door just after 9:00 to see said hot single father trailing behind his two overly-energetic children.

“Bucky!” The kids came running up to the counter, practically jumping over it in their excitement.

“Hey, it’s my two favorite park buddies!”

“What about me?” their dad asked, his eyebrows climbing his forehead.

“Well,” Bucky shrugged, cocking his head at Steve, “maybe if you showed a little more enthusiasm in your greetings, then _you’d_ be my favorite.”

Steve glanced shyly at his feet, but still couldn’t hide the way his smile lit up the whole shop. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, you guys here for breakfast today? We got a new batch of cream cheese muffins fresh out of the oven.” Bucky mentally smacked himself. _Cream cheese muffins? Really?_

“Actually, no. That’s not why we’re here.” Steve’s smile faded slightly, replaced with a trace of nervousness. “We talked about it last night, the three of us, and we’d like to take you up on your offer. If it still stands.”

“My offer?” Bucky wasn’t following.

“To stay with us after school, silly.” Sarah giggled at him. “So, will you?”

“Please, Bucky?” Joseph pleaded. “Please? I don’t want to go to after-school care with Norman.”

Bucky frowned. “Who’s Norman?”

“He’s in my class and he goes to after-school care and he’s weird and smells funny.”

Bucky stifled a chuckle. “Well, I can’t let that happen, can I? I guess I’d better take the job.”

He glanced at Steve over the children, now jumping up and down and yelling animatedly to each other in their excitement. Steve locked eyes with him and time stopped; everything else faded away as Steve smiled at Bucky. Bucky wondered how this smile would compare to Steve’s early-morning, sleepy I-love-you smile.

“So.” Steve cleared his throat and clapped Sarah on the shoulder, breaking the spell. “You guys wanna find us a place to sit while I get our breakfast?”

The kids nodded and ran off to find the perfect spot amongst the few that were left, leaving Bucky alone with Steve. Thank God there was a lull at the moment so Bucky could take his time with his favorite customer. “You know, if you keep coming here for breakfast, you’re gonna go broke,” he teased.

“You trying to get rid of me? 'Cause that doesn’t seem like very smart customer service.” Steve frowned and shook his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Besides, you forget I work for a multi-millionaire now. I can afford nice things.”

“Like me?”

“Yes, like you,” Steve smiled. “Seriously, though, I’m sorry. I should’ve said yes to your offer yesterday.”

“It’s okay. The important thing is that you eventually came to your senses,” Bucky winked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did. And, um, I know this wasn’t part of the deal, but I’d really like to make this a long-term arrangement. If you’re interested.”

Wait, what? “Long-term? Like, you want me to be your nanny?”

Steve chuckled. “We don’t have to call it that if you don’t want to. But look, the kids love you, and you’re clearly good with them. And I trust you. So, what do you say?”

Bucky didn’t even have to think about it. He’d only known Sarah and Joseph for a short time, but he already loved them both. Watching those two after school every day would be the easiest money he’d ever made. And on top of that, he’d basically have Steve coming home to him every night?

Okay, maybe he was _slightly_ deluding himself with that last thought. This was obviously a colossally bad idea, because Bucky was very clearly not able to think straight when it came to Steve Rogers.

“I’m sorry,” Steve continued. “I know this is kind of sudden, and you’re working. I shouldn’t be bothering you when you’re working. How about we get two hot chocolates and a medium coffee, and some of those cream cheese muffins, and I can call you some other time when you’re not busy, and…”

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it?”

And there they were, those puppy-dog eyes of Steve’s that Bucky just couldn’t say no to. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he was setting himself up for the heartbreak of a lifetime, but there was more than just himself to think about here. The bottom line was, regardless of what Bucky’s heart – and more to the point his dick – wanted, those kids needed him.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”


	5. Chapter 5

Steve’s first week on the job was, well, rather rough. Not because he was suddenly in way over his head, or because he had no idea what he was doing; actually, as it turned out, having a job basically custom-designed for him made it that much easier to fake being knowledgeable. It wasn’t even the fact that Pepper had to fly to Hong Kong suddenly, leaving Steve to figure things out on his own alongside people he’d never met before. All of those things were unfortunate, but nothing Steve couldn’t deal with.

Pepper’s assistant, on the other hand?

Lorraine was nice, sure. And _so_ helpful. But Steve had never been hit on so much in his life, and after meeting Bucky Barnes, that was saying something. He had barely made a dent in the list of properties Maria had given him, and instead of having the list narrowed down to a few possibilities for him and Pepper to look at by the time she returned, all he had done was run out of excuses as to why he couldn’t join Lorraine for lunch. Or dinner. Or a trip to the supply closet for “more paper.” By the time Pepper got back from her trip Steve was begging for a new space to work in.

Which was how he ended up at an empty desk in one of Tony’s secretary’s secretary’s offices, seated across from one Darcy Lewis. Darcy barely looked up from texting on her StarkPhone long enough to say hello when Pepper walked in and informed her that Steve would be sharing her office. Steve was eternally grateful at the lack of response, though; the silence emanating from the other side of the office was absolutely divine.

Unfortunately it didn’t last long.

It was all of twenty minutes before Darcy sauntered over and sat on the edge of Steve’s desk. “You know, for a secretary, you’re pretty cut.”

Steve sighed. “Not you too.”

“Not me what?”

Steve took off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose; he really needed to nip this in the bud right now, because he really had a lot of work to do, and after working alongside Lorraine all week he was way behind. He couldn’t afford to lose another day and be forced to tell Pepper that he’d made no progress whatsoever his first week. “Look,” he calmly explained. “You’re a beautiful girl, and I’m sure you’re very nice, but I just recently got divorced, and…”

“No, ew! No offense, but you’re, like, old. And anyway I’m seeing someone.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I just, after Lorraine…”

“Dude, say no more.” Darcy leaned over Steve’s desk and began rifling through his papers, which he had very carefully organized and which she was very quickly un-organizing. “So, what’cha working on?”

Steve snatched one of the spreadsheets out of Darcy’s hand. “I’m going through this list of properties that Stark owns, trying to find one that would work as a location for an art gallery. But unfortunately, Stark owns a lot of property, so it’s slow going. I haven’t made much progress.”

“Cool! Can I help?”

“Don’t you have your own stuff to work on?”

“Are you kidding? Tony hasn’t given me anything to do in weeks. All I do is sit here and answer the phone, which is kinda stupid by the way, because this company has their own answering service, so no one ever calls me. So, can I?”

Steve pondered her for a moment. “So what do they pay you for?”

Darcy shrugged. “Beats me.”

Steve relented and thumbed through his papers. “How well do you know Manhattan?”

“Well enough to know you’re gonna have your work cut out for you if you’re gonna open a gallery here. You’ve got a buttload of competition.”

“We’ve got a buttload of competition no matter where we go.” He handed her one of the Manhattan pages. “Check these on the property tax assessor’s web site. Look for current property value, square footage, location, that kinda thing. If you see anything that looks promising, let me know.”

Darcy grabbed the list and swung her legs off Steve’s desk. “You got it, boss.”

“And don’t call me ‘boss’.”

“Chief, then?”

“Darcy…”

“Fearless leader?”

“I’m trying to work here.”

“Captain?”

Steve sighed. Clearly she was not going to let this go. “Fine. You can call me Captain.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Steve found himself smiling despite his utter exasperation. He had a feeling Darcy inspired this reaction more often than not.

 

*

 

It turned out that Darcy, when she wasn’t being completely frustrating, was actually an incredibly efficient worker. Twelve o’clock came and went and she showed no signs of slowing down, so Steve didn’t either. By one, just as Steve was closing in on the last three properties on his Brooklyn list, Darcy jumped up from her desk, holding her papers in the air with a flourish. “Je suis fini!”

Steve gaped at her. “Seriously? You checked the entire Manhattan list? It was twice as long as mine!”

“Dude, I type 90 words a minute. And looking stuff up on the internet isn’t exactly rocket science.” She rolled her eyes and handed Steve her notes.

He had to give it to her, she had done a pretty great job. Every item on the list had detailed notes as to why it was or was not an option, with her final choices highlighted and notated as to why they would make for a great art gallery. Steve hadn’t even given her any details about the gallery or what it was going to house, and still Darcy had taken her bare-bones instructions and gone above and beyond. Steve was impressed. “This is good work. But I think you meant ‘j’ai fini’.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“You said ‘I am dead’.”

“Duh, well I am. Dead hungry. It’s past lunchtime. Let’s go eat.”

Steve glanced at his list, which was so close to being done. If he pushed through another fifteen minutes or so, he could be done with this for the day. His stomach, however, had noticed Darcy’s mention of food, and decided to make its presence known very loudly.

“I guess we’re in agreement, then. Come on,” Darcy insisted, grabbing her jacket and purse, taking a quick second to forward her phone.

“Okay. Just… give me fifteen minutes. I want to finish this. You go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

Darcy grabbed Steve’s list in one hand and Steve’s hand with the other, dragging him to his feet and out the door. “ _Or_ , I can look these up on my phone while you buy me lunch, and you can tell me what this little project is all about.”

“Anyone ever tell you how persuasive you are?”

“All the time.” Darcy released Steve’s hand and pushed the elevator call button. “They just don’t usually put it that nicely.”

 

*

 

“Okay, that’s, like, the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. Do you have any idea how huge this place is gonna be with Pepper Potts’ name above the door?”

“That’s kind of what I’m hoping.” Steve took a sip of his water and took another glance at his falafel, willing himself to finish it. This place Darcy had taken him to had the best pitas he’d ever tasted, but damn, the portions were huge. He hated to concede defeat, especially with something as delicious as this, but with a sigh of reluctance he had to admit he was done. “I’m hoping that Pepper’s name will get people in the door, but her art collection will keep them coming back. And maybe that will let us give some exposure to struggling artists in the area that might not get any otherwise.”

“Yeah, but you do realize that art galleries aren’t just about art, right? Once this place opens, everybody who’s anybody is gonna want to have their weddings there. Or bar mitzvahs. Or sweet sixteens. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this four hours ago! I could’ve eliminated ninety percent of those properties you gave me on square footage alone! I need to take another look at that list. This changes everything.” Darcy jumped out of her chair and threw her jacket on, taking one last, long swig of soda before dashing out the door.

“Darcy! Wait!” Steve gathered their trash and took off after her, finally catching up three blocks later as she waited for the crossing signal. “Darcy, will you just hold on a second? I think we’re getting a little off track here. Weddings? Sweet sixteens? This is an art gallery we’re opening, not a dance hall.”

Darcy looked at him like he was crazy before rolling her eyes and taking off across the street as the light changed. “Look, my friend Jane got engaged last year. Her fiancé is, like, some Scandinavian prince or something, so they needed the venue to be big and fancy, right? So I went with her to look at a couple of art galleries in town that do weddings. Most of them charge around $250 a head, but there are a few that charge up to $500. Now multiply that times 250 guests.”

Steve did a little mental math, and almost choked. “That’s $125,000.”

“Exactly. And that’s a small wedding, if you’re either rich or well-known. Now some of that money will go to the caterers, and the decorators, and stuff like that, but a good chunk of it goes to the venue. Now multiply that times a wedding every week, sometimes two or three if you space them out just right.”

Steve’s eyes boggled. “That’s a couple of million dollars a year. At least.”

“Right. And granted, to a company like Stark, a couple of million a year is nothing. But to an art gallery? That’s huge.”

“So you’re saying that if we design our space in such a way that it could double as a wedding venue, we could possibly bring in a couple extra million a year?” Steve was beginning to see her point; his head was suddenly spinning with all the possibilities. “That could be the difference between just struggling to pay the bills, and… and having enough flexibility in the budget to have art classes, after-school programs, artist residencies…”

Darcy breezed through the glass doors to the Stark Tower, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor as she practically jogged to the elevator bank with Steve close behind. “I need to take another look at those properties. I think there’s one or two locations that might actually work. And I should probably look at your list too while I’m at it. There’s no telling what you missed.”

Steve had to admit, he was thoroughly impressed. “You know, Darcy, I’m starting to think that your talents are being vastly underutilized at this company.”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anybody, will you? I kinda like getting paid for doing nothing.”

                                                             

* * *

 

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck_. Steve sprinted as fast as he could with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder as he made his way from the subway stop toward his neighborhood. He had been doing so well leaving on time so that he could be home by 5:30. He and Bucky hadn’t officially agreed on it, but Steve though it was the least he could do to make sure he was home in time to start dinner, and that Bucky was home in time to eat with his family.

Tonight, though, he had gotten so wrapped up in looking at properties with Darcy and throwing ideas back and forth that he hadn’t even noticed it was past time to leave until Darcy’s cell phone alarm went off at 5:30 announcing that her shift was over. _Fuck._

Steve had fired off a quick text to Bucky that he’d get back as quickly as possible, but rush hour on the New York subway system apparently had other ideas. The usual 45 minute trip had taken well over an hour, and now Steve was going to be 6:45 getting home, 7 if he stopped somewhere and grabbed some takeout for dinner. He could call and order a pizza as he walked, but he didn’t have any places on speed dial like Sam did. Fortunately there was a corner market along his route, so he took a quick two minutes to dash in and get bread, lunchmeats and cheeses, chips, and sodas. And Oreos.

Maybe Bucky would forgive him for being late if there were Oreos.

Steve sprinted up the stairs, plastic grocery bags digging into his palms, only to be accosted with two screaming voices the moment he opened the door.

“No, Daddy! You’ll die!”

“Dad, quick! Get on the sofa!”

Steve cast a puzzled glance around the room, taking in the sight of his two children standing on one of the armchairs on the far wall, Bucky on the other, and little Becca on the ottoman in the center of the room. Bucky and Joseph had towels tied around their necks like capes, with Sarah and Becca wearing crowns that appeared to be made out of paper plates. Steve looked at Bucky for an explanation.

“Steve, get on the sofa,” Bucky insisted as he nodded toward the children, imploring Steve to play along. “ _The floor is lava_.”

“Yeah, Daddy! An’ we hafta save the princess!”

Okay, that was not what he’d expected to find when he walked in over an hour late.

Steve looked again from Joseph to Sarah to Becca to Bucky and, ignoring the insistent rumbling in his stomach, made a decision. He promptly threw his bags down on the floor and jumped up on the sofa. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“Well,” Sarah explained in that matter-of-fact tone of hers, “we tried jumping over, but it’s too far. And Bucky tried holding Joseph over the lava pit to reach Becca, but his arms weren’t long enough.”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “It’s always been my biggest flaw.”

Sarah continued. “So we were trying to figure out if we could build a bridge.”

“I see.” Steve rested his hands on his hips and glanced around the room. “And it looks like all we’ve got to build a bridge with are pillows and sofa cushions, but we don’t know if they’re lava-proof, right?”

Joseph threw up his hands in exasperation. “You see the problem?”

Steve locked eyes with Bucky. Bucky’s face was still completely neutral, but his eyes were dancing with mischief. It was a nice look on him. Exactly when Steve started noticing things like that he wasn’t sure, but now was not the time to explore that avenue of thought. “So I think our only option is to do a test. We can throw one cushion into the lava and see if it melts, and go from there.”

“That’s a great idea, Dad!”

“Try the little one first, Daddy!”

“No, wait! What if the little ones melt faster than the big ones? Maybe you should try a big one instead?” Bucky threw Steve a wink. “Unless you think you can’t handle a big one, that is?”

Steve coughed. Even in the middle of a children’s game, Bucky couldn’t resist throwing a flirtatious comment his way. It was on the tip of Steve’s tongue to respond with something equally coy, like _I don’t know, maybe we should start slow and ease into it_ , but he stopped himself. Where did that thought even come from?

And if Bucky was insinuating what Steve thought he was insinuating, that was one mental image Steve did not need floating around in his head in front of his children. He’d have to talk to Bucky later about dialing it down a notch. “Why don’t we vote? Who thinks we should test the smaller cushions first?”

Sarah and Joseph both raised their hands. “Okay,” Steve continued, “who thinks we should try the bigger one?”

Bucky slowly raised his hand, and how he managed to make such a simple gesture seem seductive, Steve would never know. What Steve did know was that they needed to get this game over with as quickly as possible and eat dinner, because the hunger was apparently scrambling his brain. “Who thinks we should skip the test and throw all the cushions on the floor at once? That way whoever saves the princess can walk across the ones that are melting the slowest?”

“Ooh! Let’s do that!”

“Yeah!”

Steve pulled the rear cushions off the sofa and passed them around so that everyone would have one to throw on the floor. It was decided that Joseph was the fastest runner, so he’d be the one to save Becca the moment the bridge was made. Becca, however, had other plans; as soon as the first cushion hit the floor by her feet, she crawled down off the ottoman, waddled over to Bucky, and declared, “I win!”

“That’s right,” Bucky laughed as he held out his hands and picked up his sister. “My princess doesn’t need saving, right?”

“Wight!” Becca agreed.

Steve shook his head as he jumped down and started replacing the cushions on the sofa. “So, did you guys plan that out? Because I gotta say, that looked pretty staged to me. I think one of you guys cheated.”

“Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater!” Sarah echoed.

“We didn’t cheat! I swear!” Bucky insisted. “Becca’s just that smart, what can I say?”

“Well, she does have a pretty smart big brother looking out for her.” Steve clapped his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, very pointedly ignoring the pull he felt in wanting his hand to linger there longer than necessary, and turned towards the kids. “Alright, why don’t you guys say goodbye to Bucky and Becca and thank them for coming over? I think we’ve kept them long enough.”

“But Bucky, you said you’d stay for dinner!” Sarah glanced from Bucky to her dad and back again, a look of absolute dejection on her face at the thought of having to say goodbye.

“Yeah, Daddy. Bucky’s s’posed to stay!”

“He even made lasagna!”

“An’ I got to do the noodles!”

“Yeah, Dad. He and Becca can’t leave yet!”

It wasn’t until the kids began protesting that Steve actually noticed the mouth-watering smell emanating from the kitchen. “You made lasagna?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I learned this really easy recipe online a few years ago. But it’s okay. You guys enjoy. We’ll get out of your hair.”

Steve watched as Bucky went to grab Becca’ things, and realized he didn’t want to say goodbye just yet either. “Wait, I didn’t mean… Will you please stay for dinner?”

“Are you sure?”

“Are _you_ sure? I mean, don’t you have to get home to your mom?” Steve winced. He hadn’t wanted to sound too eager, and ended up putting his foot in his mouth instead. What was wrong with him tonight? “I’m sorry, please don’t answer that. Just ignore me.”

Bucky laughed. “It’s okay. Tonight’s Ma’s night to work late. She won’t be home until almost midnight.”

“Then it’s settled. You and Becca are having dinner here.”

Bucky smiled softly. “Good. Thanks.”

Steve marveled at Bucky and the kids setting the table, laughing and joking as if they’d been together all their lives. So far everything Steve had assumed about Bucky had proven to be wrong; this guy he’d thought was just some cocky college kid who flirted with anything that moved had turned out to have many more layers than Steve had expected.

Steve didn’t know what it was about this young man who had so easily slipped into his and his children’s lives, but he found himself wanting to know more.

 

* * *

 

“I’m telling you guys, we’ve saved the best for last.”

Darcy had been going on and on about this one building in Brooklyn all day, but Steve remained utterly unconvinced that some old boiler building had anywhere remotely approaching the potential to be an art gallery. Even if it was right on the East River, there had to be a reason why the building had remained unused and unoccupied all these years. “I still think that place in Greenwich is the one,” he huffed.

“You’re insane. That place is way too small. Pepper agrees with me. Right, Pepper?”

Pepper held up her hands and waved Darcy off. “I’m reserving my final opinion until I’ve seen all the choices. But you gotta admit, Steve, she does have a point about the whole wedding venue angle. We might need more space.”

“Ha!” Darcy pointed a victorious finger right in Steve’s face.

Steve pushed her hand away playfully. “Why are you even here, anyway?”

“Duh. I’m, like, your assistant now. Admit it, if it wasn’t for me, you’d have been stuck in that office going through your little list until January.”

“You’re not my assistant! We only worked together for one day!”

“Yeah, and look how much farther along you are now. You need me. In fact, I’m putting in for a transfer. Pepper, can I transfer to Steve’s department?”

“I’m not a department!” Steve scoffed. Pepper stifled a giggle.

Their driver slowed the car down and pulled to a stop alongside the boiler building. “We’ve arrived, Miss Potts.”

“Ah. Saved by the bell,” Pepper smiled. “Thank you, Jackson.”

Steve climbed out first and offered a hand to Pepper, who took it, and Darcy, who slapped it away, just like every previous time that day. He supposed it was their “thing” now, and rolled his eyes as he eyed the building next to them. “I still say this place is too big. It’s a whole city block!”

“Yeah, but look at the view.” Darcy grabbed Steve’s shoulders and physically pointed him North toward the river. “You got the Manhattan Bridge on one side, Brooklyn Bridge on the other, and the park right in the middle. Now think of what that view will look like at night through these windows. People will pay top dollar to have their events in this place and have that view in the background.”

Steve didn’t want to admit she was right, but… “Okay. Let’s see the inside.”

 

*

 

Pepper stayed awfully quiet as the three of them inspected the building. Try as he might, Steve just could not get a read on her or her opinion, even as they circled back around to the main door and she calmly turned and asked, “Darcy, could you give us a moment, please?”

She waited until Darcy was out of earshot. “So, what do you think?’

“It’ll need a lot of work.”

Pepper nodded. “This one more than the others.”

“Will it blow our budget?”

“I can always sell one of Tony’s Warhols if it does.”

Steve chuckled. “It’s got great light.”

“She’s right about the windows along the North wall.”

“It’s a big building, though. Bigger than what we really need.”

Pepper shrugged. “You wanted space for classrooms.”

“True.”

“Or we could just lease out what we’re not using.”

“You adding ‘Landlord’ to my job description now?”

“You can always delegate that to Darcy.”

Steve smiled. “You know, she really does make a good assistant.”

Pepper cocked an eyebrow at him. “You want me to tell her that?”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “No.”

“I’ll call HR as soon as we get back. She’s all yours starting tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Pepper.” He glanced around the space, so vastly different from what he’d pictured but somehow exactly right. “So this is the one, huh?”

Pepper’s poker face finally broke into a wide grin. “This is it.”

Steve’s first thought, right after he and Pepper gave Darcy the good news, was that he couldn’t wait to tell Bucky.

 

*

 

It didn’t surprise Steve in the least when Darcy pulled a bottle of Champagne out of her purse and handed it to Pepper. “What? I like to be prepared!”

“You got glasses in there too?” Steve eyed her warily.

“Do I look like the kind of woman who carries Champagne flutes around in her purse? Just drink out of the bottle like a normal person!”

Pepper laughed as she removed the wire cage and eased the cork out. Despite her obvious experience in uncorking bottles without making a mess, the three of them still ended up being sprayed in a fountain of Champagne the moment the cork popped free.

“Oh my god, this is going on Facebook. Smile!” Darcy pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of Steve and Pepper laughing and covered in room-temperature Champagne foam.

“Just don’t mention where we are or what we’re doing. I haven’t made an official announcement to the press yet.” Pepper smiled and raised the bottle to take a swig.

“So you’d rather look like you’re just drinking in a warehouse with some random guy?” Darcy asked her, uploading the photo anyway.

Pepper mulled it over for a moment, then shrugged. “It won’t be any worse than the stuff Tony used to do.” She took one last swig and handed the bottle to Steve.

Steve chuckled at the easy camaraderie between his two companions as he took a few sips from the bottle. “Hey Darce, send me a copy of that picture, will you?” Bucky would definitely get a kick out of it. He pulled out his phone, smiling to himself as he added the caption.

**Steve: My job is better than your job.**

Not a minute later, he received a reply.

**Bucky: IDK, think I got you beat.**

Bucky had attached a photo of himself with Sarah and Joseph, all three of them making silly faces. Sarah had her eyes crossed and her lips pursed in a fish-mouth, and Joseph had his tongue out with his index fingers pulling his lips wide open. They were the same expressions his kids always made whenever they were asked to do silly faces, and they made Steve laugh every time.

But Bucky? He had his upper lip curled into what Steve assumed was an attempt at a tough-guy snarl, but Steve could see in his eyes that he was trying not to laugh. In fact, Steve would’ve bet money that Bucky’s composure broke the second the photo was snapped. He could just picture Bucky and the kids now, doubling over with laughter as they crowded around Bucky’s phone to look at the picture one last time before sending it. Steve smiled softly.

Bucky really did have nice eyes. Had he ever noticed that before?

“Sexting during office hours? Shame on you, Cap.” Darcy’s voice interrupted Steve’s reverie, and he felt his face heat up.

“I’m not sexting,” he scowled, pocketing his phone. “Just texting my babysitter that we’re wrapping up for the day.”

“Wait a second,” Pepper interrupted. “ _Cap?_ ”

“It’s short for ‘Captain’,” Darcy explained. “It’s his new nickname. Although I think text-flirting with the babysitter…”

“I wasn’t flirting!”

Pepper exchanged a knowing look with Darcy. “I think the gentleman doth protest too much. What about you?”

Darcy shook her head. “Ugh. I so thought you were better than that. The babysitter? Really?”

Steve huffed. “There’s nothing going on. I think you two have just had a little too much Champagne.”

“And I think you’re in denial. I saw that look on your face when you were texting her.” Darcy’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Steve. “Unless…”

Pepper nodded. “There’s nothing going on, but he wants there to be…”

“Aww, Cap’s got a crush on her. That’s so cute!”

“So who is she, this woman who has stolen our Cap’s heart?” Pepper giggled. Steve just rolled his eyes. He was not going to be baited by these two.

“Or…” Darcy drew the word out, mulling something over for a moment. “Maybe it’s not a she?”

Steve felt his eyes widen infinitesimally, and knew immediately that he’d given himself away. Fuck.

“Interesting,” Pepper grinned as Darcy jumped up and exclaimed, “I knew it!”

“Knew what?” Steve balked.

“Come on, as many times as I leaned over your shoulder at your computer the other day and you never once checked out my rack? I knew you weren’t straight!”

“So, can we see a picture?” Pepper asked.

Steve knew he shouldn’t, but there was no way the two of them would let it go now. He pulled out his phone and showed them the picture Bucky just sent, trying to keep his face neutral as Pepper and Darcy fawned over Bucky’s photo with proclamations of “He’s cute!” and “Go for it, Cap!”

But even despite the grin that he felt tugging at his lips as Bucky’s eyes smiled back at him, Steve couldn’t help but think to himself that they were wrong.

He did not have a crush on Bucky.

Did he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this story I'm borrowing the location of the [Smack Mellon ](http://smackmellon.org/) gallery in Brooklyn. I've never been there, but I fell in love with the architecture of the place while browsing pictures of art galleries, and the location is perfect for our purposes.
> 
> Also, this chapter contained a couple of MCU canon quotes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve did not have a crush on Bucky. Did he?

Okay, maybe he did.

But it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going to do anything about it.

First of all, it was highly inappropriate to become romantically involved with the person to whom Steve had entrusted his children (he refused to call Bucky his “babysitter" now; that just made it more weird), regardless of that person’s age or gender, no matter how attractive that person was. But second, speaking of age and gender, those were kind of a factor also.

True, Bucky was an adult. And also true, Bucky wasn’t exactly the first guy Steve had ever been attracted to. But that didn’t change the fact that Bucky was almost a decade Steve’s junior, and that Steve just got divorced. Bucky would basically be a rebound, right? Because Steve was still getting over his marriage ending?

Except the thing was, and Steve hated admitting this, but he didn’t really miss Sharon all that much. It surprised him to realize it, but she had been right; their marriage had been pretty nonexistent for a while. New home and new job aside, Steve’s life without Sharon wasn’t much different from his life with her.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that it just wasn’t a good time to jump into a new relationship with someone. He had children to take care of. They came first, above all else, and they had just been through a pretty major upheaval. They seemed to be taking it in stride, but it was still too soon. Plus, they had grown pretty attached to Bucky. What if he and Steve became involved and it turned out badly? Steve just could not put his children through that.

No, getting involved with Bucky was a bad idea no matter how he looked at it. Steve just needed to forget all about it and move on.

 

* * *

 

“I gotta hand it to you, Cap. The place looks pretty good.” Darcy donned her sunglasses as she and Steve exited the gallery site. “You know, I wasn’t sure about Clint as a contractor at first, but he and his guys have done a kick-ass job so far.”

“See? I told you not to doubt me.”

“Yeah, but you know these celebrity types. All flash, no substance. He really does know his shit, though.”

Steve chuckled. “You have seen his show, right? He’s not some random guy who hosts a TV show. He actually does build stuff for a living. For some really wealthy, really picky people.”

“Yeah, but that could’ve just been editing, or whatever.” Darcy stopped as Steve turned the corner to head toward the subway. “Where are you going? The bridge is this way.”

Steve was glad to have his aviators on so Darcy could not see the guilty look he was sure his eyes were showing. “I thought we could head to the Coffee Shop for a bit.”

Darcy crossed her arms and gave him a knowing look. “Uh huh.”

“Come on, Darce. We can work there the same as we can back at the office. And it’s closer by subway than walking back to Stark Tower.” Steve could tell Darcy wasn’t buying it. Was he really that transparent? “They have really good cream cheese muffins.”

Darcy smirked. “Cream cheese muffins? Now there’s a euphemism for ‘nice ass’ that I’ve never heard before.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He should’ve known this was a bad idea. He was going to catch hell from her from now until eternity. “Alright, I’m buying.”

Darcy’s heels clicked loudly on the sidewalk as she breezed past him toward the subway. “You’re too easy. I would’ve gone for free, you know. A chance to watch you making googly eyes at some guy? No way am I passing that up.”

“We’re going to work, Darcy. That’s all.”

“Uh huh.”

 

*

 

So much for forgetting about it.

Steve honestly hadn’t planned on heading to the Coffee Shop that morning. In fact, he had very meticulously planned on not seeing Bucky at all, or texting him, or even mentioning him. After all there wasn’t anything going on between them, nor would there ever be, so it served no purpose to go to Bucky’s place of work and add fuel to the fire. And Steve had been doing so well the past few weeks since he first realized his crush that he was almost convinced he'd gotten over it.

But being at the gallery, seeing the place gutted and finalizing the plans with the architect and the contractor, suddenly all Steve wanted to do was head to the Coffee Shop and tell Bucky about all the progress they were making. Suddenly Steve was all too aware of the fact that it was Monday and he hadn’t seen Bucky since Friday, and that waiting until 5:00 that evening seemed far too long. Suddenly Steve wanted a hot chocolate cappuccino and a crinkled smile.

He wished he’d planned this out a little better. If he’d actually thought about it ahead of time he would have brought his laptop so he could get some actual work done. Instead, he was dragging Darcy out here under the guise of work when all he had on him was his cell phone. It was a tenuous excuse at best, one Bucky would probably see right through.

No matter, they were here now and it was too late to turn back. Steve turned his face toward the sky and took a deep breath as he pulled open the door and waved Darcy through. The familiar smell of coffee, cinnamon, and chocolate wafted toward him, instantly calming whatever nervousness he’d been feeling over seeing Bucky for the first time in three days.

Steve’s relative calm lasted all of two seconds, however, as he raised his eyes toward the counter and spotted Bucky. Sporting about three days’ worth of facial hair.

Attractive, Steve suddenly realized as all of the blood drained out of his heart and headed straight down south, was a complete and utter mis-categorization. Bucky Barnes was really fucking hot. Now all Steve could think about was that damn facial hair, what it would feel like to have it scratching against his lips, his cheeks, his neck. Fuck, this was a bad idea. Didn’t Bucky have any idea what he was doing to Steve with that scruff?

Then Bucky glanced up over the register, locked eyes with Steve, and broke into a slow, smoldering, unblinking smile.

Yep, Bucky knew exactly what he was doing, damn him.

This was a colossally bad idea. Steve never should’ve come here. And now Bucky’s seen him, so he couldn’t just turn around, head back to the office, and pretend that this never happened. No, he was going to have to walk over there and actually speak to Bucky. With words.

Somehow his legs remembered the way to the counter, and Steve found himself two feet behind Darcy, who was calmly introducing herself to Bucky and ordering her cinnamon latte and cinnamon coffee cake, as if there wasn’t an emotional war currently going on behind her. Bucky flashed his thousand-watt smile and completed her order, very pointedly not looking over her shoulder at Steve. Steve was simultaneously relieved and utterly infuriated.

Darcy turned on her heels and flashed a quick wink at Steve, who was now suddenly face to face with this man he had been trying so hard not to think about. “So, what brings you in today?” Bucky asked him.

“Coffee, please,” Steve replied, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Large. Black.”

Bucky cocked up one eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. Steve quickly realized he’d left himself wide open for a suggestive comment, but fortunately Bucky kept his innuendo to himself. “Anything else?”

Steve cast a quick glance toward the display case, instantly spotting the cream cheese muffins, and groaned inwardly. Now that he’d mentioned them he really did kind of want one, but Darcy would surely give him hell for that. Not to mention the fact that he’d never be able to eat one ever again without picturing Bucky’s ass. Instead he blurted out the first name he saw. “Lemon poppy seed!”

“And is that for here or to go?” Bucky calmly asked him, his face the picture of innocence.

“Here,” Steve replied, looking directly at the contents of his wallet and not at the man in front of him. His hands shook as he removed a few bills and handed them to Bucky.

“You feeling okay?” Bucky asked him. “You look a little pale.”

Was Bucky just mocking him now, or was he genuinely concerned? Steve needed only to raise his head up and look Bucky in the eye to know, but damned if he was going to do that. One look at those steely blues and Bucky would know. He would know Steve was standing there picturing himself licking all along that jawline, reveling in the sharp contrast between the rough stubbly surface and the smooth sensitive skin underneath, and… no. No way was Steve looking up. He was not, repeat _not_ , going to get an erection here in the Coffee Shop.

He slipped his wallet back into his pocket and placed his hands on the edge of the counter to hold them steady. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Just skipped breakfast, that’s all. Think I’m a little shaky.”

“Steve, if you skipped breakfast you shouldn’t be ordering some sugary muffin.”

Steve hazarded a glance up, his heart beating double-time when he saw what appeared to be genuine concern for his welfare in Bucky’s eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you’ll sit your ass down over there while I get you some protein.” Bucky walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out one of their breakfast sandwiches. “You seem like a turkey bacon and egg whites kind of guy, am I right?”

“Buck, you don’t have to do this, seriously. I’m fine.”

Bucky just stood there with his eyebrows raised in question. He definitely wasn’t going to let this go now that he sincerely believed Steve to be feeling ill. Steve relented. “Yeah, okay. That sounds great.”

“Okay. Go sit down; I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

“But I’ve already paid for a muffin.”

Bucky popped the sandwich onto the Panini press. “So, I’ll bring you a muffin to go, and I’ll add the sandwich to your tab. You can get me back next time.”

“You guys do that now?”

“Only for our best-looking customers.” Bucky smiled and winked at him.

That simple gesture should have made Steve feel more at ease, because it was so familiar and so utterly Bucky, but somehow Steve couldn’t decide whether he should be comforted by the warmth and concern radiating from his friend/crush, or completely turned on by the fact that said friend/crush was now also one smoking hot wet dream of a fantasy.

 

*

 

“Okay, so we’ve got the concrete guys coming Friday for the floors, and then for the columns on Monday, is that right?” Pepper asked, breaking Steve’s reverie.

“Come again?”

Pepper smirked at him. “Something keeping you distracted, hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve sighed, shaking his head apologetically. “You were saying?”

Pepper smirked at him. “Daydreaming about your guy?”

“He’s not my guy,” Steve scowled. “It’s just… I thought I was over this, this… whatever it is. But he… he can be so infuriating, you know? But somehow… not. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

“What’s he doing now that’s got you so bewildered and inariculate?”

Steve frowned. “He’s growing a beard.”

“Mmm. I do love a man with facial hair, as you probably guessed.” Pepper waggled her eyebrows at Steve. “A word of advice, though?”

“What?”

“Well, two, actually. For the face, you’ll want some hydrocortisone cream. Down south? It sounds crazy, but diaper rash cream. Swear to God.”

“Oh, God, Pepper,” Steve groaned. He never should have said anything.

“Oh! And once it gets long enough, get him some Kiehl’s Silk Groom. Makes the hair so silky and soft. Your skin will definitely thank you.”

“I’m walking away now.”

 

*

 

The next day Steve remembered to bring his laptop with him. Darcy couldn’t stop laughing during the subway ride over.

 

* * *

 

Okay, Bucky had thought Daddy Steve was pretty hot. But Businessman Steve? That was a whole other level of hotness entirely. Bucky didn’t know what it was exactly that had now brought Steve into the Coffee Shop for four days in a row after visiting the construction site. As long as the man kept wearing those tight pants and those reading glasses, though, Bucky didn’t care.

His Ma had always taught him not to question a gift, after all, just smile and say thank you.

He just really wished that he could unwrap this one and take it apart, bit by tantalizing bit, instead of merely staring at it from across the counter.

Because having to stare at Steve day after day and know that he was completely off-limits? That was akin to the worst tortures of Hell. As was the fact that Steve brought Darcy with him every day, which really put a damper on Bucky’s ability to put the moves on. Not that he’d be getting anywhere either way, but at least he’d have a better shot at distracting Steve.

Fuck. This was torture.

Steve picked up his phone to make a call, completely oblivious to the things he was doing to Bucky as he conducted his business, so Bucky busied himself with wiping down the countertops and display cases. He really wished Nat was working today; maybe it would help to have someone to commiserate with.

Darcy sauntered up and laid her empty cappuccino mug on the countertop. “You do know he’s into you too, right?”

“Huh?” Bucky glanced up sharply; he must have misheard her, because there was no way that was true.

“Ugh, you two, I swear. Why do you think we come here every day when we could just as easily go back to our real office?” Darcy leaned in close and stage-whispered. “It’s not because this place is closer. You’re on the complete other side of Brooklyn.”

Bucky blinked at Darcy for a moment, frowning. “The hell you say.”

“Come on, didn’t you see the look on his face when we walked in here on Monday and he saw you with that beard?”

“He didn’t… he was…”

“Wait, did you really think he was acting weird because of low blood sugar? Oh my God!”

Bucky gaped at Darcy, replaying Monday’s exchange in his mind. Yes, he did remember that day, and Steve had been pale and shaky, barely sparing him a second glance. Bucky decided to keep the beard anyway, hoping that Steve would eventually comment on it, but so far nothing.

She had to be wrong about Steve. There was no way. Bucky had been flirting with him for months now and gotten nothing in return. It was like the guy was made of Teflon or something; nothing seemed to affect him at all. Sure, there were times when Steve would smile back or blush at something Bucky said, but it was more out of embarrassment than interest. Wasn’t it?

Bucky’s gaze wandered over toward where Steve was sitting. Steve glanced up from his phone call and caught Bucky’s eye, smiling bashfully and giving a shy little wave before looking back down at the table, cheeks slightly redder than before.

Huh. Bucky hadn’t even said anything to him to cause that reaction. Could Darcy possibly be right? And if she was, what should Bucky do about it? All these months lusting after this guy he had honestly never expected to have a real shot. So should he go over there and ask Steve out for coffee or something? No, that was stupid; they were in a coffee shop. Maybe a movie? What kind of movies did Steve even like? The only one Bucky had ever watched with him had been Toy Story 3, and that had kind of been an accident.

“Oh my God.” Darcy rolled her eyes and made fake gagging sounds. “I’m going back to Stark Tower.”

Bucky was vaguely aware of nodding his assent as Darcy dashed back over to the table to grab her jacket, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Steve. His phone call must’ve taken a turn for the worse, because he began rubbing at his pinched brow with his free hand. Bucky didn’t like seeing Steve worry like that; even if it was part of the job, it just made him want to take Steve in his arms and massage all those worry lines away.

He grabbed the coffee pot and ventured over to Steve’s table just as Steve hung up. “Bad news?” Bucky asked as he refilled Steve’s mug.

“Yeah, just got a call from Clint Barton, our contractor.” Steve set his phone down with a huff.

“Wait a second, _Central Park Contractor_? That Clint Barton? The guy on TV?”

“Yeah.” Steve picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee, giving Bucky a nod of thanks as the hot beverage seemed to calm his mood ever-so-slightly. “Apparently he and Pepper go way back, so he’s doing the build.”

“So what was the bad news?”

“One of his guys broke a water main. They got it under control, but apparently the pipes were worse than we had originally thought. Now they’re gonna have to dig up a huge section of the floor to replace the old rusted ones, and we had the concrete guys coming in tomorrow to pour the new floors. This is gonna set us back a few days, at least.” Steve sank back into his chair and sighed. “I was really hoping we could get this done by Christmas, you know? Everything was going so well. And a Christmas grand opening just seemed so perfect.”

“Look, Clint Barton’s the best. If anyone can get this project back on track he can. Trust me; Nat watches his show all the time. Guy’s the best in town.” Bucky smiled at Steve, thrilled to see that that simple action seemed to calm Steve even further. “Besides, opening a week later might be a good thing, if you ask me. New Year’s Eve is more of a party night anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Steve smiled back. He glanced out the window for a moment as he took another sip of coffee, finally looking back at Bucky with the slightest hint of shyness in his eyes. “So, what are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

Bucky didn’t think it was possible to grin any wider. Damn, he couldn’t believe it; Darcy had been right. “Why Stevie, you askin’ me on a date?”

“No! No. It’s a song; I was just… you know what, never mind.” Steve shook his head, his cheeks reddening. “I just meant, I hope you’ll be there. I want you there. You are coming, right? To the opening?”

Bucky couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Steve had shown him this little glimmer of promise, then snatched it away. Still, though, inviting him to a black tie party at the Potts Gallery? That was definitely progress. Maybe donning a tux was just what Bucky needed to push the odds back in his favor. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he grinned.

“Good.” Steve sighed, appearing visibly relieved that Bucky agreed to come, as if there was anywhere else he had planned to be that night. “Nat’s invited too, obviously. Hey, maybe I can introduce her to Clint!”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at Steve. It was pretty apparent to anyone who watched _Central Park Contractor_ that Clint’s interest likely lay in the other direction, but Steve seemed so proud of himself for his matchmaking idea that Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell him. The guy was just so adorably clueless sometimes.

“So, you uh… you bringing a date to this thing?” Bucky asked instead. Yes, it was a little obvious, but he couldn’t resist. And he did like to see Steve squirm.

Steve shook his head and smiled bashfully. “Nope. You?”

“Oh, I get a plus-one? Well, in that case…” He trailed off, waiting until he saw the tiniest flicker of disappointment in Steve’s eyes. It was delicious. “Nope. No date. I’m all yours, Stevie.”

Steve rolled his eyes playfully. “This isn’t a date, Buck. I’ll be working. In fact, I’ll be lucky if I even get to talk to you guys that night.”

“So, why don’t you have Darcy pencil me in for a little non-work-related talk around 10:15 or so?” Bucky leaned in and threw Steve a wink. “And if you need someone to kiss when the ball drops, you come find me, okay?”

Steve’s breath hitched the slightest little bit, his lips quirking up into a soft smile. “You’d do that for me?”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “I would.”

Steve laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky slid out of his seat and leaned in, making sure he got close enough that his breath ghosted over Steve’s skin, and murmured into Steve’s ear. “Good. Because I certainly will be.” He twisted away and headed back to the counter, relishing the stunned and slightly turned-on look he’d left on Steve’s face.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day Steve couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky’s last words to him. Had Bucky had been serious about wanting to kiss him? Or was Bucky just being his usual self, just fucking with him? He’d gone back and forth and around again, until it got to the point that he wasn’t getting any work done and finally begged off early.

Was he hoping Bucky was serious? That was the real question, one he wouldn’t let himself answer. He couldn’t deny his attraction, but it still didn’t change the fact that this just wasn’t a good idea. But to get to the point where it was affecting his work? It had only been a few short weeks since he’d first realized his crush and Steve already knew he was reaching his breaking point. He was going to have to do something about this sooner or later, something other than try to ignore it. The question was, what?

Steve took a deep breath and opened the door to his apartment, fully prepared for absolutely anything, only to discover both Sarah and Joseph sitting calmly at the kitchen table doing their homework while Bucky stood at the kitchen counter making a pitcher of orange juice. “Hey, everybody,” Steve called out, setting his laptop case on the entry table.

“Hey, Dad!” Sarah got up from the table and came over to give him a quick hug, and went right back to her homework.

Steve walked over to peer over Joseph’s shoulder, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. “Hey, buddy. What’cha working on?”

“Hi, Daddy. I gotta draw pictures of things that start with the letter P.”

“Pizza, pumpkin, pineapple… what’s that one?”

“Porcupine! That was Bucky’s idea.”

Bucky set two glasses of juice on the table. “We wanted something none of the other kids would have. Right, Little Man?”

“Right, Big Man!”

Steve knew he’d probably regret it, but looked up at Bucky and asked anyway. “Big Man?”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’d be surprised.”

Fucking hell. Steve felt his mouth go dry, and he desperately hoped it didn’t show on his face just how much that little comment affected him. “Right. I’m gonna go get changed outta these clothes.”

He shut the bedroom door behind him and sank against it. Was it always going to be like this with them now – Bucky constantly throwing out innuendo and Steve constantly discombobulated in his presence? He had to get a grip on himself, or he wouldn’t be able to function. He had to find a way to deal with this.

Except, he was beginning to realize, he was tired of dealing with it. What he really wanted to do was to say screw the consequences and just savor every moment of this. The truth was, this had always been his favorite part of getting involved with someone. The thrill of the chase, the flutters in the stomach in the other person’s presence, having every little thing during the day remind him of that wonderful person that he couldn’t wait to see again – it was one of the few unabashed joys in life, and he was pushing it away.

Well not anymore. Regardless of whether it led to anything or not, Steve was going to jump all-in and give as good as he’d been getting, for his own sanity if nothing else.

He rifled through his dresser, pulling out a pair of thin cotton sweat pants. He never wore these in public because he knew if he stood just right his junk would be clearly visible through the fabric. In fact, Sharon used to call them his “dick pants,” and hated him even wearing them around the house. But they were comfortable, and she already knew what his dick looked like so he often ignored her and wore them anyway.

Oh, he was so going to hell. This was just wrong on so many levels. Steve tossed his boxers in the hamper anyway, donning his sweatpants and a t-shirt that was just this side of too tight. He’d never in a million years even think of pulling this with a woman he was interested in, but he had a feeling that in Bucky’s case it would be quite effective.

And Steve really wanted to get even with Bucky for that “Big Man” comment.

 

***

 

Bucky poured himself a glass of juice and sat down at the kitchen table, watching as the kids finished their homework. He really should be heading home to get dinner started for Ma and Becca, but he just couldn’t resist hanging out a moment longer to get in one or two last comments whenever Steve came out of the bedroom.

“Hey, Bucky, can you check my fractions?” Sarah asked him, handing over her worksheet.

“Sure thing.” Bucky smiled at her and glanced at her work. “Am I gonna need to get out my red pen?”

Sarah giggled at him. “Nope.”

“You’re that confident, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Sarah nodded.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her. “We’ll see about that.” He scanned over each problem and sure enough, they all looked correct. He handed her back her worksheet. “Alright, alright, you’re a genius, I must admit.”

“Told you!”

“Told you what?” Steve emerged from the bedroom and strolled into the kitchen, the picture of comfort in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt.

“That your daughter’s a genius,” Bucky replied, fully enjoying the rear view as Steve moved about the kitchen. Damn, but Steve Rogers’ ass was a thing of beauty.

“Well I could’ve told you that,” Steve replied.

Bucky had never seen Steve looking quite so casual, but it definitely suited him. The t-shirt clung to Steve’s muscles in all the right places, giving Bucky a clear view of every ridge and vein. The man was just a work of art. If only those pants were a little tighter so that Bucky could get a clearer picture of how muscular Steve’s thighs were; he glanced down Steve’s body, mourning the way the fabric draped loosely around Steve’s legs. Then Steve turned around, leaning casually against the counter, and Bucky’s eyes were drawn immediately to the crotch of Steve’s pants.

_Holy shit._ Bucky felt his eyes widen. Did he just see what he thought he saw?

Bucky immediately looked away, because no way did he want Steve to catch him staring. But Jesus, he was pretty sure he did see exactly what he thought he saw. He wanted to look again to be absolutely sure, but Steve was facing him. If Bucky turned around and looked now, Steve would definitely know Bucky was checking him out. Instead Bucky picked up his glass of juice and took a sip, hazarding another glance out of the corner of his eye. There it was again. He began choking violently as orange juice trickled into his windpipe.

Holy fucking Christ. It was unmistakable that time. Steve was going commando underneath the thinnest pair of cotton sweatpants that ever existed, the outline of his dick very clearly visible underneath the fabric. Like, Bucky could make out the fact that Steve was circumcised through that cotton. And that he was very blessed indeed in the size department.

And Bucky was sitting here trying not to spray orange juice out of his nose.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve came over and patted Bucky on the back a few times. “You want some water?”

Bucky was absolutely sure he was beet-red now as he realized Steve’s dick was basically staring him in the face. _Don’t look at it, don’t look at it, just, for the love of God, don’t look at it._ Fuck, did Steve even realize he was showing through that fabric? He probably had no idea. Maybe Bucky should say something. But no, how weird would that be? _“Hey, Steve, your dick is showing, and by the way, congratulations, man.”_ Just, no.

Bucky grabbed the edge of the kitchen table with both hands and stared very pointedly down instead of up. “I’m fine,” he managed. “Must’ve gone down the wrong way.”

“Huh.” Steve moved the slightest little bit, bringing his dick back into Bucky’s line of vision. “And here I was hoping you knew all about going down the right way."

And then Steve turned back toward the kitchen and began pulling stuff out of the refrigerator for dinner, all calm and composed like he hadn’t just upended Bucky’s entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for bearing with me while I got this done. This chapter was a tough one for me because I kept wanting to skip ahead to what's happening in the next chapter, but I finally decided our boys needed to stew for a little bit more.
> 
> Clint's TV show is modeled after Million Dollar Contractor on the DIY network.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a cameo from a completely unrelated fandom. Sorry, but given Steve’s job, I just couldn’t resist. ;)

“James, will you quit watching the door like some jilted prom date and come help me already?” Nat smacked Bucky on the back of the head as she stormed past him into the kitchen. “We’re running low on sugar cookies, and I really need to get another batch of chocolate muffins in the oven before lunch.”

“Nat, come on.” Bucky was aware he was whining but he just couldn’t help it. “You can’t possibly expect me to bake at a time like this.”

Nat slammed the kitchen door open and glared at Bucky through the doorway. “It’s been a week and a half since he’s been in here. He’s obviously not coming. He’s obviously fucking with you, and you’re obviously letting him. So if you’re not going to grow some balls in the next sixty seconds and do something about it, I suggest you either get your ass back here and start baking, or get your ass out there and start wiping down the tables.”

Bucky glared right back at her. He knew she was right, and he hated her for it. Well, as much as he could ever hate Nat, which was not at all. But dammit, why did she always have to be right? “Fine,” he grumbled, stalking into the kitchen and throwing on an apron and a cap in the most petulant way possible.

He was halfway through dropping cookie dough onto cookie sheets before he broke. “It’s just, I don’t understand. He came in here every single day, and now, nothing!”

The chime to the front door sounded, interrupting Bucky’s hundredth rant of complaint about the giant ball of frustration that was Steve Rogers, and his heart leapt into his throat. Somehow he just knew, this was it; finally Steve had come back into the shop. Finally, Bucky was on his own turf and could begin to get even with Steve for basically flashing him. Finally.

Nat’s eyes flitted through the kitchen door’s window to glance at the customer, and she grabbed Bucky’s arm as he made his way toward the door a little too enthusiastically. “Hey. Be nice, okay?”

Bucky tried to hold back a grin. “Okay.”

He split into his most seductive smile and waltzed through the door, only to spot a young, platinum blond college-aged kid standing at the register. Fuck. Not Steve. He knew his smile had very obviously faded the moment he and the young man locked eyes, but he tried his best to paint it back on as he walked the last few steps to the register. The words “can I help you” were on the tip of his tongue when the young man beat him to the punch.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” the guy said, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Huh?” Bucky frowned. He was glad someone found this funny, because he sure didn’t know what the joke was.

“You looked disappointed to see me. Expecting someone else, maybe?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I was.” Jesus, was Bucky that obvious? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… never mind. What can I do for you today?”

The young man folded his arms across the counter and leaned forward. “I’d like a small nonfat latte, and a favor.”

Now this Bucky could work with. His seductive smile was back in full force, completely genuine now. “Oh? What could a handsome young guy like you possibly need from someone like me?”

The guy reached into his shoulder bag and brought out a flyer. “I’m being featured in an art exhibition at the Sloan Gallery in Greenwich this Saturday night. I was wondering if I could put up a flyer in your window?”

“We actually have a community bulletin board over there. You’re welcome to plaster the whole thing if you want.”

The guy shook his head. “People never look at those.”

Bucky took the flyer and skimmed over it. There were at least a dozen artists’ names on here. “Why are you advertising for yourself? Shouldn’t the gallery do that?”

“It’s a small gallery. And I’ve got to do what I can to help myself. If I don’t, I can’t expect anyone else to, right?” The guy flashed his most innocently earnest puppy-dog eyes at Bucky. “All I’m asking is one flyer in the window by the door. Please?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “That face always get you what you want?”

“Yeah, usually,” the guy laughed.

Bucky relented. “Alright, you got it. Find a spot on the door. But just this once, okay? Next show you got, you use the community board.”

“Thanks,” the guy smiled. “And make my latte a medium, will you?” He had a nice smile, and if Bucky wasn’t already otherwise romantically inclined, he’d probably be trying to make a move right now.

“You got it.” Bucky started to hand the flyer back, but stopped as his eyes caught the list of names again. “Wait a second. Which one of these is you?”

The guy pointed to the third name down. “Justin Taylor.”

Bucky handed the flyer back. “Pleasure to meet you, Justin Taylor.”

Nat appeared suddenly at Bucky’s shoulder, and Christ, how long had she been standing there? The girl was like a ninja. She snatched the piece of paper out of Justin’s hand, looking at it with a critical eye. “Hey, you got any more of these?”

“Yeah.” Justin reached into his bag and brought out a few extras, handing them to Nat. “Why?”

“Because Romeo here is extremely enamored of a certain gentleman, and this looks like the perfect opportunity for him to ask that gentleman on a date.”

“Nat!” Bucky spluttered. “What the hell?”

“Oh, come on. Are you telling me this honestly did not occur to you?”

Bucky opened his mouth to retort, and shut it again when he realized she was right. Huh. “No, it didn’t.”

“Bucky, you are trying to seduce a man who is opening an art gallery. That art gallery is going to need artists to produce work to feature on its walls. Here,” Nat gestured across the counter to Justin, “is one such person.” She shoved the flyer at Bucky’s chest. “Take this to Steve. Ask him to go with you to look at this fine young man’s artwork. I can watch the kids.”

Bucky pulled the flyer out of Nat’s hands and read it again. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world, but he still wasn’t so sure. “We don’t even know if he’s any good.”

Nat huffed. “Okay, A, that’s not the point, and B…”

“I am good,” Justin interrupted. “In case you were wondering.”

Bucky pointed an irritated finger at Justin. “You, be quiet. Customers do not get a say so in my love life.”

“Maybe they should.” Nat leaned into the display case, casually propping her elbows on the glass top. “Why don’t you tell our artist friend here what Steve did, and see if he agrees with me?”

“What? No way! I’m not telling a total stranger about this!”

Nat just laughed and turned to Justin. “So there’s this guy. Recently divorced, just moved here. He’s totally hot, like almost too-good-to-be-true hot. But he’s also got this whole shy, practically-a-virgin vibe going. Bucky’s got a major thing for him.”

“I am literally going to kill you,” Bucky glared at her.

Natasha just glanced at him, her eyes dancing with glee, and continued. “And Bucky here agreed to watch Steve’s kids every day after school, because he’s apparently got some sort of crazy masochistic streak.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “They’re good kids, Nat.”

“Anyway, he’s been flirting with this guy for months, and for some reason refuses to believe that Steve actually returns his affection, which he totally does by the way. You should see the way this guy looks at him.”

“He doesn’t look at me like that,” Bucky protested. “He’s _straight_ , Nat.”

Nat scrunched her nose at Justin and shook her head. “No, he’s not. Anyway, Bucky here’s been flirting with Steve for months, and so far all Steve has done back is smile and blush and just generally act like a teenager with a crush. Until…”

Justin’s eyes flitted back and forth from Nat to Bucky and back to Nat again. “Until?”

Nat flashed Justin an evil grin. “Until about a week and a half ago, out of nowhere Steve comes home from work, puts on these really thin sweatpants that are practically see-though, and Romeo here was so shocked he spit orange juice out of his nose.”

“No way!” Justin laughed.

Bucky frowned. “Shut up! He surprised me!”

“So what happened then?” Justin asked.

Nat proceeded to tell Justin the rest of the (extremely embarrassing, Bucky still could not believe she was telling a total stranger this) story, how Bucky had tried to wave Steve off with his “must’ve gone down the wrong way” comment, and how Steve shocked the hell out of him with one of the most blatant sexual remarks Bucky had heard in recent memory.

“So, wait.” Justin turned to Bucky. “Let me get this straight. This guy you’ve been flirting with for months puts his dick in your face and basically begs for a blow job, and you did nothing?”

“His kids were right there! I wasn’t gonna blow him at the kitchen table! And yeah, I didn’t do anything, because come on, Steve’s just not like that, okay? I mean, the guy blushes when I tell him he’s handsome, for Christ’s sake! I didn’t know what to say!”

“So what’s happened since then?” Justin asked.

“Nothing!” Bucky insisted. “He hasn’t said or done anything since. He comes home from work every day and just acts like nothing ever happened. It’s almost like he’s daring me to say something.”

Nat picked up the art flyer again and shoved it at Bucky's chest. “So, _say something_.”

Justin nodded in agreement. “If a guy gives you an opening like that, it’s because he wants you to take it. Trust me.”

Nat folded her arms in triumph. “See? Even total strangers can tell you’re being an idiot.”

Justin nodded. “So, can I get my latte now?”

 

* * *

 

Okay, so Bucky was a coward.

He’d taken Nat and Justin’s suggestion under advisement, and after careful consideration (which lasted all of a day) he’d decided to do nothing for the time being. Either Steve would say yes, which Bucky still wasn’t convinced was as assured as Nat thought it was despite last week’s Sweatpants Incident; or Steve would say no, which was much more likely given Steve’s recent relationship history. Or worse, Steve would say yes, and they’d have a perfect night, with the perfect mix of stimulating conversation and flirtatious banter, and then Steve would proceed to tell Bucky that he only wanted to be friends.

Which, let’s face it, was the most likely to happen. And Bucky didn’t think he could take that.

Because this was _Steve Rogers_ , okay? This was someone whom Bucky liked a great deal, and respected, and admired. And also wanted to kiss, and fuck, and bake cookies with on a rainy Saturday, and take the kids to the zoo with, and curl up under a big blanket to watch a movie with on a Friday night.

Which was basically what was happening right now.

Since it was Friday and Bucky didn’t have to be home with Becca until later, he’d taken a chance and made dinner again. The kids had enjoyed helping out with the lasagna so much last time Bucky decided to try homemade pizza; he knew it wasn’t the healthiest option, so he made each kid put at least one vegetable on their own pizza and hoped Steve wouldn’t be too mad that they’d also made brownies for dessert. Or that Bucky had basically invited himself over.

Fortunately he wasn’t, on either count.

Dinner had led to dessert, which led to the five of them doing the dishes together, which led to everyone cuddled up on the sofa under Steve’s mom’s old afghan watching E.T. It was everything Bucky never knew he wanted, and he just didn’t want to jinx it by asking out a guy who wasn’t interested and getting shot down, okay?

By the time the time E.T. and Elliott were quarantined and close to dying, the three kids were all conked out, with Joseph’s head in Steve’s lap, Sarah’s head on Bucky’s shoulder, and Becca wedged somewhere in the middle. Bucky briefly considered suggesting that they turn the movie off and put the kids to bed, but dammit, this was the best part of the movie. And by “best” he meant “heart-wrenchingly painful.”

Fuck, he was not going to cry in front of Steve.

Bucky glanced over at Steve, who was blinking rapidly and wiping a finger at the corner of his eye. “Do I need to go grab the Kleenex for you?” Bucky teased, blinking back his own tears.

“Fuck you,” Steve retorted, although his eyes glinted with laughter. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Long day?”

“Long week, actually. I’ve been doing interviews for the curator position. It’s exhausting.”

“But I thought you were going to be the curator?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m the director, officially. I will be doing some of the curating in the beginning, especially with Pepper’s stuff, but I’ll need someone full-time to work on setting up other exhibitions, looking for new artists to showcase, that kind of thing.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most perfect opening Bucky had ever heard, then he didn’t know what was. He should just do it right now, ask Steve to that art show. The show was tomorrow, though; wasn’t that a little last minute? But dammit, if Nat found out that he’d never even asked, then he’d be in deep shit.

And now he was actually considering asking someone out solely because he was afraid of Natasha’s wrath.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Hey, um, that reminds me. One of our regulars is having an art show at this gallery in Greenwich tomorrow, and he invited me to check it out. Nat even said she’d watch the kids. If you want to go too.” True, Justin was nowhere near a regular, but there was no way Bucky was inviting Steve out to see the art of “some guy I met for ten minutes yesterday.”

“Oh? What’s his style?”

Bucky froze for a moment. He’d completely neglected to ask. Did that guy even do paintings? Maybe he was a sculptor, or a photographer; Bucky had no clue. “Hey, do I look like I know about that kind of thing? He’s a friend, and he’s having an art show. That’s all I got.”

Steve looked thoughtful for a moment. Bucky was completely convinced he was going to say no. “Nat really said she’d babysit?” Steve asked, a trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Yeah. And offers like that do not come along very often, so I suggest you take her up on it.”

“So which gallery?”

“The Sloan Gallery. In Greenwich.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve nodded. “I’ve heard of that place. Pepper doesn’t think too highly of them.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“You know? I have no idea. I guess I’ll just have to check it out for myself, huh?”

Bucky thought his face was going to split, he was grinning so wide. “So, tomorrow night?”

Steve smiled at Bucky, that smile that just melted all of Bucky’s defenses. “Tomorrow night.”

 _It’s a date._ The words were on the tip of Bucky's tongue, but he held them back. He didn’t want to jinx it.

Besides, he’d have Steve all to himself tomorrow night for several hours. He could definitely work with that.

 

* * *

 

Except that Steve Rogers could be such a little shit sometimes.

Bucky was putting the finishing touches on his outfit – making sure his sweater looked okay, giving his hair one last check in the mirror – when he heard a knock at the front door.

“Honey, you expecting someone?” Winnie called out.

“No, Ma.” Bucky peeked his head out. “It’s probably Mrs. Hastings, locked herself out again.”

“I’ll get it. Go grab her spare key, will you?”

“Okay.” Bucky headed for the kitchen and rifled though the junk drawer. Their neighbor across the hall was constantly forgetting her keys when she left to walk her poodle; Winnie finally took her to the hardware store a few months back and had copies of her keys made so that she wouldn’t have to bother the super after hours.

Only… Ma’s “hello” didn’t sound like her usual greeting for their dotty neighbor. It sounded more like she was about to get into hardcore flirtation mode.

Bucky walked out to see who had his Ma all flustered, and startled. There was Steve, standing in the doorway and looking hot as fuck in a dark blue suit, with a matching dark blue shirt and tie. Shit, it was like Steve knew Bucky’s weakness for seeing the man in blue and decided to exploit it to the utmost tonight. “Steve? What’re you doing here?” Bucky spluttered.

Steve flashed a cheeky grin and nodded a hello. “I thought we could walk over together instead of meeting at the gallery. Your place is on the way, so.” He shrugged and turned back toward Winnie. “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, ma’am.”

“A handsome man such as yourself? You can interrupt all you want.” Winnie held out her hand. “Winifred Barnes. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Steve shook her hand. “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I see now where Bucky gets his looks from.”

Bucky watched in horror as his mother actually blushed. Oh, God, this was bad on so many levels. What the hell was Steve playing at?

Winnie nodded her head toward her son and smiled. “Too bad you can’t see that handsome face underneath that mountain man beard anymore. I’ve been nagging him for weeks to shave it off, but he won’t listen. Maybe you can talk some sense into him, huh?”

“I don’t know.” Steve cast his eyes over at Bucky and drank him in. “I kinda like it.”

Before Bucky could even begin to think of something to say to diffuse the utter discomfort he was sure was radiating off him right now at the thought of another man checking him out in front of his mother so blatantly, little Becca came running out of her bedroom, holding her arms out. “Teve!”

“Heya, squirt!” Steve held his arms out and picked up Becca, swinging her wildly into the air.

Becca squealed with glee. “Do a’gain!”

Winnie smiled. “Okay, baby, why don’t we leave poor Steve alone and let him and Bucky get going.” She held out her arms and took Becca, who burst into tears upon realizing she was not included in whatever Steve was doing that night.

“It’s okay, Becs.” Steve reached over and ruffled her hair. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Becca nodded her reluctant, tearful assent.

Steve looked back up. “You ready to get going, Buck?”

Bucky just stood there a moment, still trying to process exactly what had just happened. “Yeah, sure. Let me, um, let me get my coat, okay?”

Bucky retreated to his bedroom, bracing his hands against his dresser as he took a few deep, cleansing breaths. He had to get a fucking grip. He had to spend the next few hours alone with this man who had him so worked up, and it hadn’t even been five minutes. He wanted to kill Steve, wanted to wring his neck for pulling that.

He also wanted to rip that fucking suit off him and taste-test every inch of skin underneath.

He took one last deep breath. _You’re better than this_ , he told himself. _He’s just playing your game, is all. You can do this. And this was your idea, don’t forget that._

Bucky grabbed his coat and emerged from his bedroom, not quite sure he was ready but eager to see what the night held nonetheless. He wondered fleetingly if that was something he’d feel every day if he and Steve were actually dating. “Alright. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

“Text me if you’re gonna be late, okay honey?” Winnie asked.

“You got it.” Bucky leaned in and gave his Ma a kiss on the cheek, followed by his sister. “You take care of Ma tonight, okay Becs?”

“Otay,” Becca nodded.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Steve smiled and waved his goodbye as Bucky slipped past him out the door. They made it as far as the elevator before Steve spoke again. “I like your mom. She’s nice.”

Bucky rounded on Steve. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“What?” Steve frowned, his face the picture of pure innocence.

“Showing up at my apartment? Flirting with my mother? You could’ve at least called me first and told me you were coming over!”

“I did, Buck. You didn’t answer. I left a voice mail. And I texted you.”

Bucky pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sure enough, there were several messages from Steve. He huffed as he realized his phone was still on silent. “Sorry. I turned the sound off when Becca went down for her nap. I guess I forgot to turn it back on.”

“It’s okay. I probably should’ve checked with you earlier, but I just figured your place was on the way there. No point in meeting there when we’re both going the same way, right?”

Bucky knew there was more to it than that, but darned if he could figure out what Steve’s game was here.

And then Bucky’s head snapped up as the realization hit him. _Was_ this a game? Or was Steve really, honestly interested in him?

Huh. He’d been so thrown by Steve’s behavior as of late that he hadn’t stopped to consider that Natasha and Justin might actually be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, but my dad died a few weeks ago and it’s taken me a while to get back into the swing of writing. Thank you all for your patience! I hope to get back on track with posting a little more regularly now.
> 
> Also, this chapter was getting kinda lengthy so I decided to split it up into 2 chapters. I hope to get the rest up in a few days after I finish it up.
> 
> And if you've never been introduced to the awesomeness that is Queer as Folk, I suggest you check it out.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve couldn't remember ever having had so much fun on a date, and he’d barely left Bucky’s apartment.

Okay, so it wasn’t a _date_ , not really, since neither of them had actually mentioned the word “date” when they were making plans. And although it had been over a decade since Steve had been on a first date, he was still pretty sure that one of the requirements for an evening to have “date” status was that both parties were in agreement of said status beforehand.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t use a few of his first-date moves, however dusty they might be.

He’d already charmed Bucky’s mother, which had the added bonus of completely throwing Bucky off guard; watching Bucky squirm had been particularly delicious. He’d held doors open, he’d asked about Bucky’s day and maintained meaningful eye contact while listening, and let his hand brush up against Bucky’s a few times while they’d walked to the subway – all rather benign, but hey, he had a system (or at least, he used to 12 years ago). Next on the agenda: once seated on the subway, he’d very nonchalantly lay his arm across the back of Bucky’s seat, so that when they hit a sharp turn or a bump on the track he could use it as an excuse to wrap his arm protectively around Bucky’s shoulder.

The next train wasn’t due for a few minutes, so while they waited Steve wracked his brain for something to ask Bucky that was the perfect mix of casual conversation and first date getting-to-know-you. Damn. He should’ve looked some questions up on the internet earlier.

“So, what’d you and the kids get up to today?” Bucky asked him.

Steve was grateful for the ice-breaker. “I took them to this indoor playground, the Superstar Family Fun Center?” He glanced at Bucky, who nodded in recognition. “Nice place. They’ve got a maze, bouncy houses, inflatable slides and obstacle courses – the kids had a ball. Joseph’s now begging me to have his birthday party there.”

“What about Sarah? She’s got a big birthday coming up, right?”

Steve grinned. Her 10th birthday in January was all Sarah had been talking about lately. “Ah, she mentioned that, did she?”

“Once or twice,” Bucky chuckled.

“She wants to go ice skating at Rockefeller Center. I was thinking of taking her alone, just the two of us, maybe have dinner somewhere nice beforehand, but I don’t know. I don’t want Joseph to get upset that he wasn’t included.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, you should do it. Joseph and I can stay in and have a Star Wars marathon or something. We’ll make it a guys’ night.”

Steve just stared at Bucky for a moment; his words had seemed on the surface to be nothing more than an offhand comment, an offer of babysitting, but it struck Steve as being so much more. Something a spouse or a partner would say. Steve didn’t quite know what to do with that, considering that they were just barely 15 minutes into a non-date.

Thankfully the train arrived, sparing Steve from having to think of something to say in response. He waved Bucky in first when the doors opened, grabbing the empty seat next to Bucky’s. Okay, now it was time to make his next move. He leaned slightly away from Bucky to give himself room to maneuver, and…

And he felt Bucky’s arm just barely brush the back of his neck as it came to rest on the back of his seat. That little fucker had stolen his move. Well now he was just going to have to think of something else to get even.

He waited until they were almost at their stop, stood up, and turned around, stretching his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture that pulled his sweater tight across his chest. He eyed Bucky with his peripheral vision, mentally high-fiving himself as he noticed Bucky’s slackened jaw and darkened pupils.

When the subway doors opened Steve turned on his heels and thrust his hands in his pockets, pulling his pants a little tighter across his ass as he exited the train.

Yeah, so maybe it was a cheap shot, but it was totally worth it.

 

* * *

 

They’d barely gotten in the door to the gallery, however, when Steve’s senses were completely assaulted with tackiness, and he groaned.

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“I can see now why Pepper doesn’t think too highly of this place,” Steve replied, barely holding back a wince.

“Why’s that?”

Steve leaned in and whispered out of the side of his mouth. “Because it’s awful.”

Bucky barked out a laugh.

“No, seriously,” Steve continued. “The layout is all wrong, for one. This is a terrible use of the space they have. The walls are too yellow; it’s hard to look at after a while, and it detracts from the artwork. And the lighting.” He shook his head with a sigh.

“What about it?” Bucky looked around and shrugged. “I kinda like it.”

“Track lighting from IKEA is okay in your home, but not in an art gallery. Especially not one in this location. They should have something a little more elegant and a lot less noticeable.” Steve should know; he’d looked at enough lighting fixtures with Pepper over the last few weeks to write his own novel on the subject. “It’s like they have this great space and this great location, and have absolutely no idea what to do with it.”

Bucky grinned. “Okay, so what would you change?”

Steve glanced around; where should he even begin? His eye caught a grouping of paintings to their right, and he wandered over, Bucky at his heels. “Well, aside from the few glaring atrocities I already mentioned, take this artist’s work. The paintings are grouped very haphazardly. This one,” Steve gestured to a large piece off to the side, “should be the center of attention. It’s bold; it catches your eye immediately, and they have it shoved to the side like an afterthought. They also have it far undervalued. This artist has enormous talent. He deserves more than $200 for something as amazing as this.”

“You think? Two hundred seems like a lot of money to me.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s really not. Look at the detail in his brushwork. That takes an immense amount of time and skill and attention to detail.” He turned back toward Bucky. “Let me put it this way: this probably took days to complete, if not weeks, right?”

“Right.”

“Now think of how much you get paid for doing a week’s worth of work.”

Bucky slowly nodded as he considered Steve’s words. “And if someone told me that everything I did was only worth $200, I’d probably be offended. Or pissed.”

A young blond man appeared at Bucky’s shoulder. “A year ago, I was both of those things. Now I just take what I can get and keep my mouth shut.”

“Justin!” Bucky turned around and grinned. “This is yours? Holy shit!”

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” The guy laughed, reaching his hand out toward Steve. “Justin Taylor. I’m the artist. And I appreciate the compliment, by the way. Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“No problem. Steve Rogers, Director of the Potts Gallery in Brooklyn. Nice to meet you.” Steve shook Justin’s hand. “So, you must be Bucky’s friend I’ve heard such good things about. You’ve got some amazing work here, Justin.”

Justin’s eyes widened, and he flitted his eyes at Bucky before turning back to Steve. “Bucky here told me that his friend worked at a gallery. He failed to mention that it was one as prestigious as Potts.”

Steve chuckled, feeling the blush creep across his face. “Well, it’s not yet, but I hope it will be one day.”

“Are you kidding me? The art blogs are practically fawning over you guys. We can’t wait to get a glimpse of Pepper’s collection. Or what else you have in store, for that matter.”

Steve took another glance at the paintings on the wall in front of him, an idea formulating in his head. “Actually, now that you mention it, we are currently looking for a few local artists to feature. You got any more gems like these hidden away that I could take a look at?”

“Seriously?” Justin glanced at Bucky. “Is he for real?”

Bucky smiled. “He’s about the realest guy you’ll ever meet in this town.”

Justin blinked a few times. “Sure. I’d love… wow.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a take away card. “My cell is at the bottom. Give me a call anytime. I’ve got a workspace full of stuff from this series, as well as some pencil and charcoal sketches I could show you, if you want to see something a little different.”

Steve was about to comment on the variety of work Justin had mentioned when the card caught his eye; it appeared to be a reprint of another painting, with Justin’s contact information in the corner, but it definitely wasn’t an oil-on-canvas painting. “The background on here. Is that one of yours too?”

Justin nodded. “Yeah. I paint using digital media as well. Occasionally.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Steve marveled.

Justin actually stopped to think about it, which in and of itself made Steve chuckle. “Suck my own dick?” he suggested.

Bucky clicked his tongue in sympathy. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take very long afterward for Steve to get bored. Justin’s work was the highlight of the show, and unfortunately it wasn’t selling; another mark against the gallery in Steve’s book. Those paintings should have all had “sold” stickers on them by now. On the other hand, it just gave Steve that much more to showcase at Potts’ opening.

He turned to Bucky, who looked like he was ready to gnaw his own hand off to have something to do. “You wanna get out of here?”

Bucky’s entire body slumped in relief. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

*

 

By the time they’d finished dinner, the flirtatious one-upmanship had been all but forgotten. It was silly, anyway – throwing out these ridiculous, over-the-top gestures? It was rather pointless, when Steve stopped to think about it, considering this was not a date and he was not planning on actually following through. Bucky was a friend, he kept reminding himself, nothing more.

A friend that Steve was now enjoying himself immensely getting to know.

They’d already covered the usual getting-to-know-you topics over burgers and milkshakes– favorite colors, favorite movies, and the like – and were now making their way back home via the riverfront path that wound through Brooklyn Bridge Park.

“Oh, hey, I got one!” Steve exclaimed suddenly. He couldn’t believe the question hadn’t occurred to him sooner. “When’s your birthday?”

“March 20th,” Bucky answered. You?”

“July 4th.”

“No shit!” Bucky chuckled. “That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve agreed. “I always got fireworks on my birthday, so that was always fun. But when I was a kid I was so jealous of the kids who had birthdays during the school year. They got to bring cupcakes to class on their birthdays. I never got to do that.”

“They outlawed that at my school, actually. Thanks to me.”

“Why? What happened?”

Bucky laughed. “My mom made chocolate cupcakes one year, not realizing that there was this kid in my class, Tommy, who was allergic. The thing was, though, Tommy didn’t even know he was allergic; his parents had never told him. All he knew was that he wasn’t supposed to eat chocolate, but he never knew why. So he figured his parents weren’t there to tell him ‘no,’ and he had one anyway. Kid broke out in hives and spent the rest of the afternoon in the nurse’s office throwing up. After that, no more cupcakes.”

Steve shook his head and grinned. “You just had to go and ruin it for everyone, didn't you?”

“That’s me. Big ol’ spoilsport.” Bucky kicked a rock out of his path. “So what was your favorite birthday present ever?”

Steve thought for a moment. There hadn’t been much money to spend on presents over the years, so his birthdays had never been extravagant, but there was one gift that stood out. “Okay, this wasn’t really a birthday present, but it was my favorite gift growing up.” He glanced at Bucky, who nodded in a silent ‘go on’ gesture, so Steve continued. “I had this one teacher in seventh grade who hated me. I corrected him a few times earlier in the year, and that was it. The guy had it out for me from then on.” He saw the smirk Bucky was stifling, and laughed. “And yes, I know I deserved it, but that’s not the point. I was eleven; I didn’t know any better, okay?

“Anyway, I’d already gotten detention twice that year for mouthing off, when one day he caught me doodling in the margins of one of my textbooks, and he gave me another one for defacing school property. I was so terrified to tell my mom that I had detention for the third time that year, but all she did was ask to see my textbook. She just sat there, totally silent, flipping through the pages, looking at my drawings, then she signed my detention slip and handed it back to me without a word. The next day I was petrified the whole way home coming back from detention, wondering what wrath awaited me, but when I got home she just told me to go to my room. And when I walked in, there was a book sitting on my bed, with a bright blue bow on top.”

“What was it?”

“A sketch pad. I spent that whole night in my room drawing.” Steve smiled softly at the memory. “It was the first time in my life I remember finally feeling like something fit, you know? Like I wasn’t weird because I liked to draw. Because if they sold books for people to draw in, then it couldn’t be a weird thing, right?”

“Do you still have it?”

Steve nodded. “I still have all my sketch books, and all my work from college too.”

Bucky frowned. “But I’ve never seen any art stuff laying around.”

“Oh, I don’t do it anymore. Haven’t had time since the kids came along. You know how it is.” Steve shrugged. “So what about you? Favorite birthday present?”

“Okay, don’t think for a second that your little change of subject there means that this discussion of you not drawing anymore is done, because it’s not. But you bought me a milkshake tonight, so I’m willing to overlook it for the time being.”

Steve grinned. “That’s very generous of you.”

“But back to your question. My favorite birthday was probably my 8th. So, I was friends all through grade school with this kid Peter Quill. We met on the first day of kindergarten and realized we both had moms but not dads, and were pretty much best buds from then on. But right around the start of third grade, Peter started not wanting to do much, was looking sad all the time, never wanted to spend the night anymore, stuff like that. So I asked my Ma if I could have something for my birthday that I could share with Peter, like a board game or something. Like maybe I could make him happy again if we played Parcheesi or something.” Bucky smiled and shook his head. “Ma got me an IOU for two tickets to Coney Island so I could take him with me when they opened in the spring.”

“Your mom’s an amazing woman,” Steve marveled.

Bucky nodded. “You don’t gotta tell me that. Anyway, he and I went a month later and had the best time. It was the most I’d seen him smile all year. I found out later on, though, that the reason he’d been so down is because his mom had been sick. She died a few months later.”

“Oh my God. What happened to him?”

Bucky shrugged. “I have no idea. He left before the end of the school year and I never saw him again. I’ve tried looking him up on Facebook, and Googling him, but I’ve never found anything. It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth.”

Steve let Bucky’s words marinate in his mind as they walked in silence. His story had a rather sad ending, sure, but it was classic Bucky to the core – even at 8 years old, there he was, completely selfless, putting others in his life first. Steve was awestruck at how he’d ended up with such an amazing man in his life, purely by chance. What if he’d wandered into some other coffee shop that first day of school? He wouldn’t be here now.

Then it hit Steve like a shot to the heart. Holy shit, how had he not seen it earlier?

He was completely in love with Bucky Barnes.

No. No, no no, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s just gotten divorced, for Christ’s sake. He’d been married, had loved his wife completely, with his whole heart, and things had still fallen apart. He was still getting over it in a lot of ways. What was that word? _Rebound_. He was on the rebound. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love. Nope, love was not a good idea. Not when love falls to pieces and ruins everything.

Steve could feel the panic rising in his throat. He needed to get away now, go home and kiss his kids and remind himself of the one good thing that had come out of his failed marriage. Would it be rude to excuse himself and take off right now? Probably. _Crap._

Bucky, who was apparently completely oblivious to Steve’s panic and just trying to keep the conversation flowing, changed the subject. “So, how’s the gallery coming?”

Okay. Work talk. Steve could handle that. “Pretty well, actually. Looks like we’re still aiming for a New Year’s Eve opening instead of Christmas, but Clint’s got everything back on schedule. The guy’s pretty amazing.”

“Well, Nat will be happy to hear that.”

“Oh, hey, that reminds me. I found out the other day that I can’t really set Natasha up with Clint.” Steve winced as soon as the words left his mouth. He should not have brought up romance, considering how frantic his mind was on the subject at the moment.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Steve shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “Turns out he’s not really available.”

“Why? He already seeing somebody?”

“Yeah. Well, married, actually. To the architect that’s working on our project.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a moment, then his eyes widened. “That guy that’s on the show, Phil? Phil Coulson?”

Steve stopped and gaped at Bucky. “Wait, you knew?!”

“Well, not really. I mean, they’ve never come right out and said anything, but now that you mention it, it does kinda make sense. The guy _is_ on the show a lot. And it’s really the only time you ever see Clint smiling.” Bucky shook his head in bewilderment. “So, how’d you find out, anyway?”

“I mentioned to some of the crew that I needed someone to watch the kids during the day when school lets out for Christmas, and Clint gave me the name of the agency he and Phil use.”

“Clint and Phil have a kid? Wow, I did not see that coming.”

“Three, actually.”

“No shit!”

“Yep,” Steve nodded.

A lull fell into their conversation, which under any other circumstance Steve would consider to be a comfortable, companionable silence. Under the weight of his recent revelation, however, it just felt oppressive. Crushing. He wracked his brain for something to say, anything.

“So, um.” Bucky spoke first, stopping to clear his throat. “New Year’s Eve, huh?”

“Yeah. Pepper thought it would be better.”

“My mom’s pretty excited about it, you know. You’d think she was going, the way she won’t shut up about it.”

Steve stopped, frowning. “But your mom’s invited.” Had he not mentioned this to Bucky?

“You’re inviting my mom?” Bucky looked up at Steve with something akin to wonder in his eyes. It was too intense.

Steve turned back toward the path and continued walking. “Look, I was raised by a single mom too. If I could’ve given her something like this, a nice night out with free Champagne and lobster or whatever it is we’re having, I would have. Never got the chance, though.” He glanced at Bucky. “I just wanted to do something nice for your mom. To say thank you.”

“But you don’t even know my mom,” Bucky protested.

“No, but I know you,” Steve replied softly. _And I think she did a pretty great job there._

_God, I am so fucked._

Bucky walked alongside Steve in silence, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. Steve wondered what he was thinking about. Was it a bad thing, inviting Winnie? Maybe he should’ve asked first. He hadn’t said anything to anyone else; maybe it wouldn’t be too late to change his mind. Bucky seemed pretty troubled by this.

“Okay, I got one,” Bucky suddenly blurted out. “If you were a superhero, what would your superpower be?”

Steve startled at the non sequitur, but immediately thought of an answer. He shook his head, though, dismissing it.

“Okay, what?” Bucky prodded. “You have one, don’t you?”

“Nah. It’s silly.”

“It couldn’t be any sillier than being able to talk to squirrels.”

“Is that a real thing?” Steve wouldn’t put it past Bucky to make something up, but either way he got the point. “Okay, fine. But it’s not a superpower, really, just something I’ve always wanted to be able to do but can’t.”

“If you say 'suck my own dick,' I'm gonna smack you.”

"No," Steve laughed despite his inner turmoil. “Although I will admit I tried a few times in college."

"Now there's a mental image that'll be burned into my brain for a while."

"Shut up," Steve muttered.

"I'm sorry. What was your thing? Your superpower?"

Steve glanced at Bucky. "I'd like to be able to see red and green.”

Bucky stopped and gaped at Steve. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. I’m red-green color blind.”

“How did I not know this?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve said dismissively. “I’ve learned to deal with it, and it hasn’t been an issue with my job. Pepper knows, so she helps out if I need it.” He shook his head, sighing. “It would just be nice for once to be able to see the orange and purple of the sunset, or the strawberry highlights in Sarah’s hair, or how green Joseph’s eyes are, or…”

Steve couldn’t finish his thought, however, because suddenly Bucky was kissing him. Bucky’s fingers were in his hair, his beard scraping against Steve’s jaw, his lips warm and soft and everything Steve had tried so hard not to dream about, and God, it felt so much like coming home that Steve almost couldn’t breathe. He kissed Bucky back, more out of instinct than anything, and Bucky’s tongue just did things that made Steve’s toes curl. He tasted like mint chocolate from his milkshake earlier, and damn if it wasn't the hottest thing Steve had ever experienced.

But Steve’s conscience continued to scream at him what a bad idea this was, to indulge in this little bit of fantasy when it was only going to come crashing down, and finally Steve listened. He broke the kiss, placing a hand on Bucky’s chest and pushing him ever-so-gently away. “Buck, I… I’m sorry.”

“About what?” Bucky frowned, that little wrinkle appearing between his eyes that Steve always wanted to kiss away, and Steve’s heart broke a little more.

“This. Us. Buck, I’m sorry. I can’t. I just… I can’t.”

Bucky just looked at Steve, his eyes roving over every inch of Steve’s face. Perhaps he was looking for answers or explanation, perhaps looking for the lie in Steve’s words. “You know there’s something here,” he insisted at last. “I know you do. Look, it scares me too, Steve, but come on. Jump off the cliff with me.”

Steve closed his eyes. He wanted to, God, how he wanted to. But how could he when he knew from experience there was nothing but a brutal, violent crash at the bottom? He just couldn’t put himself through that. He couldn’t put Bucky though that.

When he opened his eyes Bucky had backed away. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna ignore everything that’s been going on between us and, what, go on about your life?”

“It’s for the best, Buck.”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed coldly. “I feel better already.”

And then Bucky turned on his heels and walked away, leaving Steve feeling more hollow than he’d ever thought possible. _You did the right thing_ , he told himself.

So why did he feel so awful?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! *hides under a blanket* I promise things will get better very soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, but I do love my angst.
> 
> Warnings for a teeny bit more.

Bucky wished he was surprised.

He wished he could be mad at Steve for leading him on. He wished he could muster up enough anger or resentment or even sadness over Steve’s rejection to spend the day either sparring with Natasha or going for a run. Letting off some steam would probably make him feel better, if he had any steam to let off. Instead, he just felt… defeated.

Bucky knew better. He knew he should have left well enough alone and just accepted Steve as a friend. He knew he should have ignored his friends’ advice; after all, they didn’t know Steve the way Bucky did. He should have listened instead to that nagging part of his brain that had been telling him these past few months that he was crazy for even falling for Steve, that there was no way someone like Steve would ever want someone like him. Considering the age difference things wouldn’t have worked out between them anyway. Add in the fact that Steve was probably still reeling over having his wife leave him, and the whole thing was one big recipe for disaster.

One thing he knew for certain now, though, was that he could not spend the day in bed agonizing over his colossal fuck-up. He trudged into the shower, briefly considering shaving off his beard – that stupid beard that he’d grown just for Steve – but decided it was too much trouble.

Half an hour later Bucky shuffled into the kitchen to the smell homemade biscuits and sausage gravy. Just the smell lifted his mood a little. “Mmm. What’s the occasion?”

“I had a craving,” Winnie answered. “You need more of a reason than that?”

“Nope, works for me,” Bucky smiled as he filled a plate. “You will never hear me argue when there’s homemade biscuits involved.”

“I thought as much.” Winnie smirked as she took a sip of her coffee, waggling her eyebrows over the rim of her cup. “So, how’d your evening go? Did things end well?”

Bucky frowned as he sat down. “They could’ve gone better.”

Winnie’s face sank. “Ouch. That doesn’t sound good.”

“It wasn’t, no.” Bucky shoved a larger-than-necessary forkful of gravy-soaked biscuit in his mouth, and yeah, that definitely made him feel better. He sighed happily as he swallowed. “It’s kind of my fault, though. I should have known better. The guy just got divorced a few months ago.”

Winnie gave him a long, sympathetic look. If anyone knew what it felt like to be rejected by someone unexpectedly, it was her. “You want me to beat him up for you?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Not right now. I’ll let you know, though.”

“So, you want to stay in and watch crappy sci-fi movies all day? I can make cheesy popcorn.”

“Actually, I was thinking we might take Becs out to the Children’s Museum or something. Get out of the house for a while.”

Becca looked up from her chair, where she was currently devouring a biscuit one handful at a time, and gasped excitedly. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Children’s Museum it is, then,” Winnie laughed.

 

*

 

Bucky and his mom grabbed seats on a bench in the corner and watched as Becca ran around the PlayWorks area.

“Okay, so you want to talk about it?” Winnie asked.

Bucky eyed his Ma. They’d always been close, naturally, and Winnie had never been anything less than supportive of his sexuality, but that didn’t mean he wanted to tell her all about his love life. “Not especially.”

“Come on.” She knocked his shoulder with her own. “I _have_ kissed boys before.”

“Ma…”

“I’ve even had sex with a few. Nothing you could say would shock me, I promise.”

“Ma, please,” Bucky groaned.

“In fact, this one time, your father and I…”

“Okay, okay. You win.” Bucky winced. “Just please don’t ever mention having sex with my father again.”

“Deal. Now spill.”

“Alright.” Bucky sighed, watching as his sister ran around in circles before falling on her behind, and he shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be a date. I wanted it to be, but I kinda chickened out and just asked him as a friends thing. But Ma, I swear it was still the best date I’ve ever been on. We talked all night, about all kinds of stuff. Things I don’t think I’ve ever told anybody before.

“Then at one point, I was asking him about the gallery opening, and you know what he told me? He was going to invite you. Like, he’d never even met you until yesterday but he wanted to invite you anyway. Turns out he was raised by a single mom too, but she’s dead now so he never got a chance to do something like this for her. And I just stood there, listening to him talk about how he just wanted to say thank you for raising me, and I just thought, _I am completely in love with you._ ”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ve been trying to tell myself for months that we were just friends, that he wasn’t interested, but at that moment, I really started to think maybe he was in love with me too.”

“What happened?” Winnie prodded gently.

“A little while later I asked him if he could have one superpower, what would it be.” Bucky saw his mother stifling a giggle, and smiled. “Shut up. It’s a good icebreaker. Anyway, you know what he said? He’s color-blind, and all he wanted to do was to be able to see his kids in full color. I couldn’t help it, I just kissed him.”

“And?”

Bucky shrugged. “He kissed me back.”

“But…”

“He pushed me away. Just said, ‘I can’t’.”

Winnie frowned, taking her son’s hand. “Honey, saying ‘I can’t’ isn’t the same thing as saying ‘I don’t love you’. That doesn’t necessarily mean things are over.”

Bucky eyed his mother. “Isn’t that the same thing George said to you when he left, though? And look how that turned out.”

“You’re right,” Winnie sighed. “But Steve Rogers isn’t George Barnes. Maybe you’ll find things turn out differently. Just give it some time, sweetie. Maybe you’ll be surprised.”

Natasha had told him the same thing all those months ago. _Just give it some time_. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do that, just waiting around for this guy to magically decide one day whether I’m worth being with.”

Winnie put her arm around him and gave him a squeeze. “You are worth being with, and if he can’t see that, it’s his loss.”

It was so utterly cliché, but Bucky appreciated it nonetheless. “Thanks, Ma.”

“What are mothers for if not doling out tired old clichés and occasionally cleaning up vomit?”

Bucky huffed a laugh in spite of himself. “Here’s the problem, though. I love watching his kids, but you know what? I just don’t know if I can do it anymore. Not after that.”

“Honey, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. His family is not your obligation.”

“I know,” Bucky nodded. “So I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time for me to look for another job. A real job.”

Winnie beamed at him. “You have anything in mind?”

Bucky gave his mom a small smile. “Well, I don’t know how it’ll pan out considering how long it’s been since I graduated, but I actually do have something in mind.”

 

* * *

 

Steve had come to dread coming home from work every day. What was once the highlight of his day, walking in the door and seeing Bucky with Sarah and Joseph, now just stabbed him in the heart. Maybe it was regret, maybe it was guilt; he just tried not to think too hard about how Bucky’s smile always faded whenever they locked eyes now, and how Bucky would leave without saying a word to Steve.

He was still planning on inviting Bucky and Winnie to the gallery opening, but as the days wore on Steve became more and more convinced that their RSVP cards would read ‘politely decline.’

God, he had really fucked things up.

It was no surprise, then, to come home that Friday afternoon – the day of the week that usually found Bucky cooking dinner for their little blended pseudo-family before they’d all spend the evening together – to find no dinner cooking, the kids sitting quietly at the table doing their homework instead of laughing in the kitchen and helping Bucky. Becca, who was usually right at Sarah’s heels begging to lend a hand, was nowhere in sight. And Bucky, who was usually at the center of it all, effortlessly taking care of the three children as if they were his own, was himself sitting quietly at the table tapping away at his laptop.

“Hey, everybody,” Steve called out. “Am I in the right house? It’s so quiet in here.”

The kids murmured half-responses as Steve made his way over to the table to hug them hello.

“I’ll go get Becca,” Bucky mumbled.

“Where is Becca, anyway?” Steve asked, looking once again around the room.

“She’s sleeping in my room,” Sarah answered. “Bucky said she’s got an earache.”

“Poor baby.” Steve frowned. Bucky should have said something; Steve could have come home earlier and let them get back home if he’d known. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Joseph, glancing over the boy’s work as his elbow hit the edge of Bucky’s laptop, the screen blinking back on. Steve glanced at it without thinking, immediately wishing he hadn’t as he read the words on screen:

 

 **_CAREER OBJECTIVE:_ ** _Seeking a position as a teaching assistant with New York Educational System where my foreign language skills and strong commitment to the total development of young adults will be fully utilized._

Bucky was working on a résumé.

Shit.

Steve knew should be happy for Bucky. He should be congratulating his friend, offering encouragement, offering to assist in whatever way he could to help Bucky achieve his career goals. Instead he just wanted to punch himself for driving this wedge between them, so sharp and wide that Bucky was now looking for a way out of Steve’s life altogether. After all, that’s what this was, right? Because Bucky would no longer be watching the kids if he was teaching somewhere, and he’d no longer be at the coffee shop downstairs either.

Bucky was leaving him.

Steve had never felt so completely gutted in his life. At least when Sharon left, it had been because of something she did. But this? This was all on him.

 

*

 

Another week went by. Bucky was still pretty much avoiding him, and it was really starting to put Steve on edge. He knew it was his fault, though he was less convinced now he’d done the right thing; he just really wished instead that he hadn’t had to do anything at all. He wished Bucky had never kissed him. He wished he could turn the clock back to before he’d started indulging in this stupid fantasy, the one where he and Bucky actually end up together, and tell himself to forget about it.

He wished he didn’t know what Bucky’s lips tasted like, what it felt like to have Bucky’s hands in his hair or Bucky’s breath hot against his mouth. He wished he never had to see that look of utter heartbreak on Bucky’s face as he’d pushed the man away. And he wished his excuses as to why this wasn’t a good idea didn’t sound so lame and so utterly misguided now.

Wishing didn’t accomplish anything, though. Instead, Steve pulled out his phone one morning after dropping off the kids and texted Sam.

 

**Steve: Want to go for a run before work?**

**Sam:** **Dude, you crazy. It snowed yesterday.**

**Sam: Okay, fine. Meet me at the gym in 30. I’ll get you in on a guest pass.**

**Steve: Thanks. I owe you one.**

**Sam: You owe me more than one, but who’s counting?**

 

Steve sent a quick message to Darcy and the new curator Peggy Carter to let them know he’d be an hour or so late getting in, and headed home to grab his gym clothes.

An hour later, Steve was on the treadmill next to Sam and feeling much calmer. God, he’d missed his morning runs. Maybe after the gallery opened he’d be able to start up again, since they wouldn’t open until 10:00. Six miles turned to seven, and Steve’s muscles were just starting to ache in the best way.

But Sam, the sadist that he is, wasn’t content to let Steve stay on the treadmill, instead pulling him off after a few more minutes for a workout of burpees, mountain climbers, and box jumps. Steve hadn’t wanted to throw up so much since college.

“I forgot how evil you are,” Steve groaned as he struggled to regain his breath.

“Did you also forget how scrawny you were before I came along and whipped your sorry ass into shape?”

Steve huffed a laugh and took a long gulp of water from his canteen. “And to think I almost lived in the dorms alone.”

“Thank God for clerical errors, right?” Sam clapped him on the back. “You ready to lift some weights?”

“Hell, no. I already won’t be able to move for a week.”

“That’s cause you’re getting soft in your old age. I’m telling you man, let me put you on a regimen. I’ll get you back in shape in no time.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think I’d be able to afford you anymore.”

“Nah, man. You’re my original client. You get discounts for life.”

“Thanks, man.” Steve grabbed a seat on a nearby weight bench, the burning in his lungs starting to subside now as he took a few more gulps of water, and gazed idly across the room.

Sam sat down next to him. “Alright, you want to tell me that this is about now? Coming all the way out here to punish yourself with that workout?”

Steve scoffed. “The burpees were your idea!”

“And you could’ve told me to fuck off, but you didn’t. Something’s up with you.”

Steve sighed. Sam knew him too well. “Bucky and I had a fight.” He told Sam the general details of what happened, ending with finding Bucky’s résumé.

“So what are you looking for here?” Sam asked him, thankfully ignoring the part where Steve basically just came out. “Do you want to be just friends with this guy, or do you want more?”

“Honestly? I don’t know anymore. I thought I knew, but now?” Steve sighed. “I don’t think it matters. I think I’ve lost him, Sam.”

“You really miss him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied softly. “I do.”

“Then get him back.”

Sam made it sound so simple, but Steve knew from experience that nothing in life, especially love and friendship, was ever simple. “What if it’s too late?”

“It’s never too late for an apology.”

Steve nodded, letting those words sink in. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m smarter than you.”

Steve smiled sadly. “What if I’ve screwed this up too much for that, though? What if he won’t listen to an apology?”

Sam clapped his hand on Steve’s knee and stood up. “Then you’d better make it a good one.”

 

*

 

It was a great idea in theory, but in practice? Steve had no idea what to do.

Just walking up to Bucky and saying ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem like enough, but what else should he say? I was an idiot? I miss you? I’m actually in love with you but I’m too afraid of getting hurt again to do anything about it? Somehow Steve had the feeling that none of those would be enough.

With the gallery opening in just two weeks, things at work were going surprisingly well. Peggy was proving to be a valuable asset, and with her contacts in both the American and English art worlds had lined up some pretty amazing collections for the coming months. Darcy was even stepping up her game, rising to the challenge of becoming the gallery’s event coordinator; Steve had yet to encounter a party supply company or caterer who was immune to her shrewd haggling skills. Pepper’s collection was all lined up and ready for transport the next week. So as Steve left Justin’s apartment one afternoon after finalizing the pieces they’d be using, a task which went far faster than expected, Steve found himself with the afternoon free and a lot of thinking to do.

He found himself bypassing the subway, instead pulling his coat a little tighter against the cruel December chill and just walking, hoping inspiration would strike. He’d already finished his Christmas shopping for the kids, Sam, and Natasha online. But Bucky? He still had absolutely no idea what to get Bucky.

He’d toyed with the idea of an afternoon at a men’s spa, something Pepper mentioned that Tony swore by, but he didn’t want it to get interpreted as an insinuation that Bucky needed a shave and a haircut. He loved the way Bucky looked, beard or no beard, long hair or short.

He’d also considered doing something for Winnie, like using Pepper’s contacts to get her a fancy new dress or a hair appointment at some fancy salon for the gallery opening – something he knew Pepper would be more than happy to call in a few favors for – but he didn’t want to seem like he was buying Bucky’s forgiveness, or trying to secure an apology by using Bucky’s mom as a pawn.

What was something he could get Bucky, something that could convey the depth of his remorse? Something that someone who was always doing for others would never do for himself? Steve was utterly stumped. No idea seemed good enough.

He found himself at a bookstore a few blocks from Justin’s place, eyeing a book in the front window featuring photographs from around the globe – hadn’t Bucky mentioned once that he'd wanted to teach abroad? – when he spotted an art supply store a few doors down. Memories of their conversation that night bubbled to the surface; Steve swallowed them back down, but headed for the shop anyway. It had been far too long since he’d let this side of himself out.

The walls of canvases and oil paints were tempting, but in the end Steve settled on a simple sketch book and a box of charcoal pencils. It wasn’t until hours later, long after the kids had gone to bed, that he removed them from the bag and stared at the blank pages, willing himself to remember how it was done. How did he used to come up with ideas for stuff to sketch? It had all flowed so easily back then, but the pathways in his brain were now rusted from disuse.

No, he corrected himself. His brain was now filled with thoughts of Bucky, drowning out everything else. He thought of that moment, now a few weeks past, when he’d first realized he was in love with Bucky – how Bucky’s eyes shone as he told the story of wanting to make his childhood friend smile, how his hair fell across his face and Steve wanted nothing more than to feel its softness as he combed the locks back with his own fingers, how Bucky’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, portraying a wisdom far beyond his twenty-five years.

Steve laid pencil to paper and began to sketch for the first time in a decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one that was getting kinda long, so I'm splitting it. The next part is finished and will be up in a few days after I get some editing done.
> 
> Also I forgot to tell you guys last time, but I thank you all for your condolences and your patience in getting these chapters up.
> 
> Coming up: the angsty portion of the fic will come to a close for the time being.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky’s heart began jackhammering in his chest when he heard the door to Steve’s apartment open. Fuck, why was he so nervous all of a sudden? He’d known this moment was coming for a couple of weeks now, even though it just seemed like some pipe dream before. After this morning, however, it wasn’t just a pipe dream; it was that much closer to reality.

Which meant there was no putting it off anymore. He had to tell Steve.

Steve set his bag and coat down on the nearest chair, rubbing some warmth back in his fingers as the kids ran over to hug their greetings. Bucky very studiously avoided Steve’s gaze as he began clearing up the afternoon’s activities, but he still felt the moment Steve’s eyes registered his outfit.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, the confusion evident in his voice. “You’re awfully dressed up.”

“Yeah, um.” Bucky stopped to clear his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. In private?”

“Sure,” Steve nodded, brows still furrowed in uncertainty as he cocked his head in the direction of his bedroom. “Kids, Bucky and I are gonna talk for a minute, okay?”

Bucky wished there was some other way to do this. He’d gone over every scenario, trying to figure out a way to do this via text, or email, or fuck, just having his Ma call Steve and leaving Bucky out of it altogether, but in the end he just couldn’t do it. If Steve could muster up the balls to reject him in person, the least Bucky could do was to tell Steve he was quitting in person.

But the bedroom? Really?

Bucky had never set foot in Steve’s room until now; Steve had always kept the door closed, and Bucky had respected that boundary. Seeing it now for the first time, though, Bucky was almost shocked how sparsely decorated it was, considering Steve was an artist. Just a simple bed without a headboard, a small wooden table for a nightstand, and a dresser that looked almost as old as Steve. There were a few framed pictures of the kids lined neatly on top, next to two photos of people Bucky had never seen before: a pretty blonde woman with Steve’s eyes and smile, and a salt-and-pepper haired gentleman with Steve’s strong jaw and chin. He was holding a baby and smiling.

“Your parents?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” Steve smiled softly. “That’s Sarah, my mom, and Joseph, my dad. And me.”

“You named your kids after them,” Bucky murmured. It didn’t surprise him in the least; somehow he’d known it to be true before even asking. “What happened to them?”

Steve sighed. “My dad had a heart attack when I was two. Mom got a rare strain of pneumonia, died just after I graduated high school.”

“Wow. Sarah looks so much like her.” Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off the picture. It was almost like catching a glimpse of the future, of what little Sarah was going to look like as a grown woman.

“Yeah. She does. So,” Steve announced, pulling Bucky out of his reverie. “Something you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh, yeah.” Fuck, why was this so hard? Bucky took a deep breath, steeling himself for the fallout. “I had a job interview today.”

Steve nodded slowly, a look of sad resignation crossing his face as he sat down on the far edge of the bed. “I figured as much.”

“It’s still kind of a long shot, considering my lack of experience, but I actually have a pretty good feeling about it.”

Steve continued to stare out the window in front of him. “When will you know for sure?”

“Next week, most likely. And like I said, it’s a long shot, but…” Bucky took a deep breath, ready to rip the Band-aid off the rest of the way. “I handed in my notice at the Coffee Shop last week. Tomorrow is my last day.”

Steve looked pained for a moment, then schooled his face into an even expression. “Yeah. I, um, I saw your résumé on the computer a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh.” Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to be angry that Steve had been snooping. Hell, it was probably an accident anyway. Bucky hadn’t exactly been trying to hide anything.

Steve stood up and turned to face him. “I’ve already spoken to the agency. Kate can watch the kids full-time starting next week, instead of just during school hours. And once they go back to school, she’ll take over picking them up every day.”

“Are you sure? I can still come over in the afternoons next week.” Bucky mentally smacked himself. Steve had just given him an out; he should have taken it and run. Dammit, why was it so hard to walk away from this man? “I mean, with the opening next week and all, I figured you’d be working late.”

“Buck, don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighed. He knew Steve was right, but there was still that part of him that felt obligated to help. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Bucky, no.” Steve frowned. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“But what about the gallery?”

“I gave everybody the day off. Seriously, Buck. Go be with your family.”

 _Your_ _family_. Bucky tried to ignore how much those words just sliced through him. As if Steve and his kids hadn’t been Bucky’s family from the moment they’d spent that first day together in Prospect Park. “Yeah. Okay.”

He turned to leave, when he heard Steve say, “Bucky, wait!”

“Yeah?” Bucky turned back around, half-expecting Steve to gather Bucky in his arms and confess what an idiot he’d been. _Yeah, and the fact that you’re still hoping that’ll happen is exactly why you need to get away from this man. Get a fresh start, and all that._

“Here. I almost forgot.” Steve handed him a box, wrapped in festive Christmas paper with a silver bow on top. “Merry Christmas, Buck.”

Bucky took the gift into his hands, immediately registering that it wasn’t a box at all but a book. Fucking perfect. Steve saw he was applying for a teaching job and got him a book for Christmas? It was a polite gesture, but kind of impersonal.

Still, it was more than Bucky had gotten for Steve, so he had to at least give the guy that. “I didn’t get you anything,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do this because I wanted something back. I just, I wanted you to have it.” Steve stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach out and give Bucky a hug and decided not to. “Listen, Buck. I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this job is gonna do that for you, then that’s what I want for you.”

Bucky nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Because what Steve didn’t say, what Bucky was still secretly hoping that Steve would say but knew in his heart was never going to happen, was that they should be happy _together_.

He left, saying a quick goodbye to the kids and knowing it was a dick move not to tell them he wasn’t coming back, but hell, he just didn’t have it in him. He needed to get out of there and start putting as much distance between himself and Steve as possible. Because it was absolutely not good how much the man still affected him. He needed a clean break.

 _Starting now_ , he thought as he left Steve’s apartment for the last time and headed home. Starting now, Steve Rogers was no longer a part of Bucky’s life.

When he got home, Bucky threw the book on a chair in the corner of his bedroom. By the next morning it was covered in laundry and forgotten.

 

* * *

 

Steve glanced around the gallery: the concrete columns stained to look like polished marble, the brick walls sandblasted clean as new, the industrial windows framing the lit-up Manhattan Bridge in the background, artwork from all genres hung on every wall, crystal chandeliers and barely-visible sconces casting a soft glow on every surface. And everywhere he turned, people were dressed to the nines and chattering excitedly about it all.

“You’ve done a phenomenal job, Steve.” Peggy held up her glass of champagne to toast. “You should be quite proud of yourself.”

Steve clinked her glass and took a sip. “Thanks. But I can’t take all the credit. You had a hand in this too, you know.”

“Oh, pish posh.” She waved him off. “I showed up a few weeks ago and hung a few paintings. Look around you, Captain.”

Steve groaned. “Not you too, Peg.”

She ignored him and pointed a determined finger in his chest. “ _You_ put all of this together.”

“Nah.” Steve shook his head. “Clint and his crew built all of this. Pepper picked out most of the décor. Tony paid for all of it. Hell, even Darcy found this building, and oversaw the catering. I didn’t do anything.”

Peggy placed a hand on his arm and turned him toward the far wall, pointing to where Pepper was chatting animatedly with Justin. “You gave that young man a chance. And I hear he’s just sold his first piece of the night. For $2000.”

“Good.” Steve smiled. “He deserves it.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I spot a few possible benefactors that could stand to have their drinks refreshed.” Peggy winked at him and sashayed away.

Steve glanced around the room for something to do and spotted Darcy across the room scolding one of the waiters. He started across the room to see what the problem was, when he was interrupted.

“Hey Cap.”

“Tony,” Steve greeted with a tight smile. He liked the man a great deal, but Tony could be a bit intense, and right now he wasn’t sure he was up for it.

“Pepper told me about the whole blindness thing. So, did you think the dress was blue and black, or white and gold? And how do you drive, anyway? Oh wait, how many fingers am I holding up?” Tony waved his hand in front of Steve’s face.

“Tony, for fuck’s sake, I’m not _actually_ blind. I can see, you know.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I’ve noticed you can see the door just fine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think we haven’t all noticed you watching the door to see if your little boy-toy is gonna show up?”

Steve froze. “Did Pepper…?”

“Psh, Pepper told me nothing. She’s resistant to my techniques. Darcy, on the other hand, squealed like a little school girl. Never knew you had such a thing for facial hair, Cap.”

Steve groaned exasperatedly.

“Too bad I’m a married man now. Back in my younger days, though? Fine specimen of All-American manliness such as yourself? I’d have totally let you hit this. Probably at a frat party after a few Jäger bombs, though. No offense.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “None taken.”

Pepper appeared at Tony’s side. “Honey, are you bothering this poor man?”

“Ah! There she is, wife-of-mine. The woman who stole my heart. And probably keeps it in a wall safe with infrared sensors hidden behind a Monet.”

Pepper giggled. “It’s the Van Gogh, actually.”

“See? I knew she’d crack one day.” Tony kissed her on the cheek. “Be right back.”

Pepper laughed and watched her husband disappear into the crowd. Steve envied them, the effortless way they had with each other.

“You know,” Pepper said turning back to Steve, “I know Tony’s not the easiest man to be with. I half expect every time the phone rings that it’ll be Happy telling me he blew himself up in one of the labs and left me a widow. But I wouldn’t trade one moment with him.” She shrugged. “What can I say? He makes me happy.”

Steve smiled wistfully at her. “You deserve to be happy.”

She wrapped an arm around him, leaning her head against his. “So do you.”

He felt the tears well up, and blinked them back. “Thanks, but… it’s too late. I screwed things up. I tried to apologize, and then I screwed that up too. He hasn’t talked to me in a week. He’s gone, Pepper. It’s over.”

“Maybe not.” Pepper pointed toward the door. Steve turned, and suddenly had the breath knocked out of him.

There was Bucky, wearing a slim-cut black suit with a matching black shirt and black necktie. He’d cut his hair short, the way it was when he and Steve had met. And he’d shaved the beard off. He looked absolutely stunning, as did his date, Natasha.

Steve locked eyes with him for one brief, hopeful moment. Then Bucky broke eye contact and strode over toward the bar.

So there it was.

Steve squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and let it out. “I should go see if Darcy needs help.”

 

*

 

New Year’s Eve had always been one of Steve’s favorite holidays. The memories of the year past, the promise of new memories to be made in the coming year – it was a holiday full of hope.

Tonight, though? He just wanted it all to be over.

Steve scanned the crowds – there was Pepper, charming a group of suits and no doubt solving some international financial crisis while still looking perfect in her designer dress and 6-inch heels; Natasha chatting with Clint and Phil and looking at Clint’s phone, most likely at photos of Clint and Phil’s kids; Sam giving training pointers to some actor whose name Steve could not for the life of him think of at the moment; Justin with his arms wrapped around some fuckably handsome guy that could only be his boyfriend; Darcy barking orders at the catering manager while simultaneously chatting with a pretty brunette and an impossibly built blond guy; and Bucky with Tony goddamn Stark, drinking whiskeys and laughing like they were best fucking friends.

Well, at least Bucky was enjoying himself, even if it wasn’t Steve who’d put that smile on his face. At least he came. That was something, right? Except he’d spent the night completely avoiding Steve. Either he’d thrown Steve’s gift away unopened, or he’d opened it and decided it didn’t make any difference. Either way, it was crystal clear now that things between them were well and truly over. Steve had given it a shot, and been shot down.

He retreated to his office. Maybe he could catch a nap before it was time to start shutting the party down.

 

* * *

 

Bucky hadn’t realized how much of a lightweight he’d become.

It was only his second or third whiskey when he’d realized he was quickly heading down the path to the porcelain throne, and that was one place he did not want to visit tonight, so he’d switched to club soda to sober up. Only now, after his eighth glass, he had to piss like a motherfucker. He politely excused himself and set off to find the bathroom.

And damn, even the men’s room in this place was fancy as fuck. The urinals were all set in polished natural stone, a painting hanging above each one. Wouldn’t that be a pisser (he giggled to himself at the pun) if they were for sale? He peeked around the side looking for a price tag, but straightened back up and continued attending to the matter at hand as he heard someone walk in behind him and turn on the faucet. No way was Bucky gonna get caught being the weirdo admiring the bathroom art at a gallery where Picassos and Rembrandts hung just100 feet away.

As he relieved himself, Bucky suddenly realized just how exhausted he was. Fuck, he was getting old. Now he was one of those people who had to call it a night before the ball even dropped.

He finished up and headed to one of the sinks, which were no doubt marble with twenty-four karat gold or some shit, when he recognized the person at the other end splashing water onto his tired face. Bucky considered, for one brief moment, hightailing it out of there without a word, but shit. He’d been avoiding the guy all night, and the guy knew it.

“Steve. Hey,” he said, sauntering up to the sink next to Steve’s.

“Bucky?” Steve looked up, surprised. “Hey. Didn’t realize anyone else was in here.”

“Yeah, this place is like a palace, huh?” His joke fell flat, as he should’ve expected. Everything Bucky did with regards to this man was apparently the wrong thing nowadays. “It’s nice, though. All of it. You and Pepper, you guys did a good job here. I mean it.”

“Thanks, Buck. That means a lot.” Steve smiled tiredly. “I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah. I, um… I wasn’t sure if you’d want me here, after…”

“No. I did. I do. That’s why I invited you.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, his eyes avoiding Bucky’s gaze.

Bucky was glad to see that this was equally as awkward for Steve as it was for him. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

“So, your mom didn’t make it?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “Couldn’t find a babysitter. Big party night, you know. None of our usual back-ups were available.”

Steve frowned. “You should’ve said something; you could’ve dropped Becca off at my place. Kate could’ve…” He trailed off as he saw the expression on Bucky’s face. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Bucky didn’t quite know what to say to that, and fuck if he’d already let this conversation go on longer than he’d wanted. He turned to leave. “Well, I guess…”

“Hey, Buck?”

“Wait, what?” Bucky stopped, realizing Steve had just spoken over him.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. On the job. Natasha told me.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m pretty excited about it, so…” he trailed off, not really knowing what else to say.

“And you’ll be working with one of your old professors, did I hear that right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Dr. Erskine, he was one of my German professors. But I’ll be assistant teaching for some of the others, too. German and Spanish this semester, and they said I can audit some Italian classes too, if I want. I’d been trying to learn on my own, so this’ll probably help a lot, you know?”

“That’s great, Buck. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

The silence was stretching on into uncomfortable territory, so Bucky cleared his throat and began to step toward the door once more.

“Bucky, wait.” Steve stepped in front of him, laying both hands on Bucky’s shoulders, sliding them down until they came to rest on Bucky’s hips, leaving a tingling trail of heat in their wake. “I just want you to know, everything I said, I meant it; I just wished I had realized it a little sooner. And I know I fucked everything up, but I wanted you to know that. I just want you to be happy, Buck. Even if I’m not the one making you happy.”

Steve held his gaze for a moment longer, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Then he kissed Bucky on the forehead, and walked out.

 

*

 

Bucky couldn’t stop replaying Steve’s words as he walked home. What had Steve been talking about, that he’d meant everything he’d said? He hadn’t said shit, except ‘I can’t.’ Was that what he was talking about? But that didn’t make sense, given what he’d said afterward about just wanting Bucky to be happy.

Bucky walked into the apartment a little after 11:00; his mom was conked out on the sofa, New Year’s Rockin’ Eve playing quietly on the television. Becca was nowhere in sight, so she must’ve been tucked in some time ago. Bucky tiptoed quietly to his room and threw his coat on the chair.

Wait... the chair. _The present!_ Was that what Steve had been referring to? Bucky dug underneath the layers of unfolded clothes, his fingers closing at last around the hard planes of the book. He sat down on his bed and ripped off the paper.

It was a sketchbook, just like the one Steve had mentioned his mom gave him. An odd gift, really. Bucky didn’t draw. He opened it anyway, gasping audibly, his heart jumping into his throat as he realized what Steve had given him.

There, on the first page, was a charcoal drawing of Bucky so lifelike it was like a photograph. It didn’t look like any photographs Bucky could recall having seen of himself, though. His hair was longer, as it had been recently; his face was covered in the beard that he’d only just shaved off that morning. He was laughing in the drawing. He looked happy.

Had Steve done this from memory?

Bucky turned the pages. There were other drawings, of Sarah and Joseph, Becca, Winnie with Becca, Natasha, Pepper, Steve’s parents. And then there were landscapes, too – the Brooklyn bridge, the Manhattan bridge through the gallery windows, the Manhattan skyline. And over and over again, sketches of Bucky. Every page, every spare inch filled with sketches of Bucky.

Steve had done all this? For him?

He flipped through the book three times, savoring every page. Was this what Steve had been referring to, then, when he’d said he meant every word? Maybe Steve’s way with words was through pictures? Bucky fanned through the pages again to see if he’d missed anything, when he saw it, penciled in on the back cover.

 

_Bucky,_

_I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I said to you that night. It was such a brave thing you did, putting your heart on the line like that, and then I did to you the exact thing I swore to myself that I would never do, which is hurt you._

_The truth is, that is the last thing I want._

_The truth is, you came into my life when I had been so deeply hurt by someone else that I was afraid of getting my heart broken again, so I told myself I would not give my heart away so easily in the future._

_The truth is, you turned everything upside-down and stole my heart anyway, despite my best efforts not to let that happen._

_The truth is, Bucky, you make me happy. And happy is something I never thought I’d feel again. Something I never thought I’d want again. Because happiness so often ends in pain, and I couldn’t bear the thought of having to go through that again._

_What I realize now, however, is that I’d rather have a few moments of happiness with you than a lifetime without you. Because the truth is, Bucky Barnes, I am completely in love with you._

_You put your heart so bravely on the line once, so here I am doing the same. My heart is yours, and if you should ever find it in yourself to forgive me for hurting you, you can have it, and me._

_You make me happy, Bucky. And if you’ll have me, I’d like the chance to do the same for you._

 

_With love,_

_Steve_

 

Bucky grabbed his coat and keys, and ran out the door.

 

*

 

How was it possible that the crowd had somehow doubled since he’d left? Fuck, he would never find Steve now.

Bucky pushed his way through the throngs of people, looking for someone, anyone, who could tell him where Steve was. At last he spotted Darcy, and made his way slowly toward her.

“Darcy! Have you seen Steve?” he shouted over the roar of the crowd.

“Try his office. He snuck back there an hour ago and no one’s seen him since. Hey, what did you do to him, by the way?”

Bucky sighed. “I fucked up.”

“Then go fix it.”

“I’m trying.”

“Do or do not, soldier.”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, okay, Yoda.”

“Ugh.” Darcy winced. “Do not ever call me that again.”

Bucky pushed his way back through the crowd toward the offices, which if he remembered correctly, were by the men’s room he’d visited earlier. A few twists and turns and he found it. The door was closed, but he knocked anyway. And knocked. And knocked. There was no answer.

Well, shit. He could try Steve’s apartment; maybe Steve had gone home? But no, this was his shindig going on tonight. He’d probably have to stay until the bitter end and clean up, right? Bucky went back out into the gallery, again scanning the crowds to no avail.

He circled the perimeter twice, hoping for at least a glance, some sign of that blond hair and those blue eyes, but there was nothing. As the clock hit midnight and the crowd began pairing off into couples kissing in the New Year, Bucky finally resigned himself to the fact that it just wasn’t going to happen tonight. The best he could do at this point would be to go by Steve’s place in the morning. Maybe with muffins. Steve had always liked his muffins, right?

He made his way toward the nearest door. It wasn’t the one he’d come in through, but there were too many people to get back to that side of the gallery. He’d just have to take the long way around.

Bucky stepped out into the cold onto Plymouth Street, into the bright lights of the two bridges lit up on either side. He could hear the faint _pop! pop!_ of fireworks in the distance, but they weren’t visible from here. Maybe he’d walk back through Brooklyn Bridge Park and try to catch the tail end of the show. Make this trip not be a total waste.

“Bucky?”

He turned around to the source of the voice, standing there leaning against the side of the building, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Steve?” Bucky looked the man up and down. “Where’s your coat?”

Steve shrugged. “I needed some air. It was getting a little stuffy in there.” He took a few tentative steps toward Bucky. “What’re you doing here? I thought you left?”

“I did.” Bucky took a step toward Steve. “I finally read your book.”

“You did?” Steve asked, a trace of hope in his voice.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, closing the distance between them until they were a breath apart. "Sorry it took me so long."

"That's okay." Steve gave him a tentative smile. "I hope you liked it."

"I did. And the truth is..." Bucky lay a hand in the crook of Steve’s neck, massaging his fingers along Steve’s hairline. Steve's skin was warm despite the winter chill, and Bucky felt for the first time in weeks like all the rough edges that had been gnawing at him finally smoothed back into place. He pulled Steve's head down until their foreheads were touching. “You make me happy, too, you punk.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s face with both hands, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, we are nowhere near the end for these two. Plenty more to come!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's been ages since I've last posted. I'm so sorry! I've been preparing to go to SPN NashCon this weekend, so I've been scrambling to get this out before I leave. As always, thank you for your patience. I'll try to get to reading and responding to your comments when I return.

_New Year’s Day, a little after midnight_

Kissing Bucky was an unparalleled experience.

Steve had never felt this before, this sensation that his entire body was alight, desperate to be consumed by the man in his arms. He had already missed out on weeks – no, months – of not kissing Bucky. Now that he had this, he was not going to be the first one to let go. He kissed Bucky slowly, languidly. He kissed Bucky desperately, all teeth-clashing and lip-biting. He kissed Bucky’s lips, his cheeks, his neck, his earlobes. So far he hadn’t found a favorite spot. Maybe he would never find one, but he was not going to stop searching.

Bucky pulled away and rested his forehead against Steve’s chest, panting. “Steve, holy shit. You’re killing me here.”

“Is this too much?” Steve was suddenly worried he had gone too far, too fast. Perhaps he had gotten a little carried away in his enthusiasm. “I’m sorry. You’re right; we should slow down.”

“Slow down?” Bucky looked up, his eyes boggling. “I was thinking more along the lines of moving this into your office and speeding things up a little.”

“But we haven’t even been on a date yet!” Steve spluttered.

“I got news for you. We’ve already been a date. In fact, I would argue we’ve been on several dates. We just didn’t want to admit it at the time.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “So this would be makeup sex?”

“Exactly!”

“Bucky,” Steve sighed. God, he just could not stop touching the man. He ran his fingers along Bucky’s face, his jaw, the back of his neck. “I don’t want my first time with you to be on some chair in my office.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at Steve, and damn, that look meant trouble. “It doesn’t have to be the chair. There’s quite a few things I can show you with just the wall.”

Good Lord, Steve was tempted. But Bucky had taught him to take chances; now it was Steve’s turn to teach Bucky patience. “Sorry, Buck.” He leaned in close, brushing his lips against the shell of Bucky’s ear as he whispered, “When I finally get you alone, I’m taking my time.”

Bucky’s eyes glazed over for a second before he recovered and smirked at Steve. “You know, there’s something to be said for a quickie now and then too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighed and kissed Bucky again, a quick peck on the lips. “But later.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Hey, you knew what you were getting into.”

“A permanent boner?” Bucky grinned. “Funny, I don’t seem to remember that being mentioned in the letter.”

The letter. God, just the mention of it brought all the pain and heartache he’d caused Bucky back to the surface. All the time he’d wasted, how stupid he’d been. “Bucky, I’m so…”

“Hey.” Bucky leaned in and kissed him, soft and chaste. “None of that. You apologized; I forgave you.”

“Just like that?”

Bucky pretended to think it over. “Okay, one thing. Two! Two things.”

“Gosh, you’re needy.”

“Shut up. Two things, take it or leave it.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. Fuck, he had missed this. “Shoot.”

“One: from now on, you talk to me, okay? Don’t shut me out again. Whatever’s going on with you, anything, you tell me, okay? And we’ll figure it out together.”

Bucky was right. If Steve had just talked to him that night, told Bucky all the things that were going on in his head, all the things he had been (still was, to be honest) afraid of, then he might have spare himself and Bucky some serious pain and heartache. “Yeah. Okay. What’s the second?”

Bucky pulled Steve in closer. “Keep kissing me.”

“That I can do.” Steve smiled, met Bucky halfway, and at last they were kissing again.

“Steve are you…” Darcy called out from the general vicinity of the doorway. “Oh my God, fucking finally!”

Steve pulled away from Bucky a little too late, surely blushing now at the show he had just given his employee. Then he suddenly realized why she must be looking for him; he glanced at his watch and winced. “I’m sorry, Darce. I really just stepped out to get some air. I didn’t realize I was gone that long.”

“No, I mean fucking finally you two got your shit together. Mazel tov, live long and prosper, and all that. But Steve? Party’s over. Time to pack up and head home.”

“What about all the guests?”

“Tony invited all the stragglers back to his place for round two. The caterers are packing up, Peggy’s inputting the last of tonight’s sales, so it looks like you and me are on cleanup duty.”

Steve sighed, running a hand over his face. “Darcy, do me a favor? Remind me next time not to have a party that stretches across two calendar dates.”

Darcy nodded. “Pepper made a pot of coffee before she left.”

Steve slumped in relief. “Best. Boss. Ever.”

“I know, right? And it’s that fancy Indonesian stuff she got in Bali last year.”

Bucky perked up at that. “I can help clean up too. I mean, if you want.”

“You’re hired,” Darcy said, holding the door open. “Come on fellas, time’s a-wastin’.”

Steve followed Bucky through the door. “Buck, really, you don’t have to. There’s a cleaning crew coming tomorrow; we just have to get the tablecloths folded and make sure all the candles are blown out. Darcy and I can handle it, really.”

“Captain Rogers, don’t make me smack you!” Darcy called out behind them.

 

* * *

 

_1:30 a.m._

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, even after the fancy coffee, but he was beat. These last few hours had been incredibly draining, both emotionally and physically. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be up for a little late-night activity, though, if Steve was amenable. Especially if said activity included putting on a pair of Steve’s old sweats and falling asleep in Steve’s bed. Because Bucky was damned if was going to say goodnight to Steve now that they were officially together.

As if on cue, Steve came up behind Bucky, threw the last folded tablecloth onto the stack, and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. “I’m beat.”

Bucky smiled and leaned back into Steve’s embrace. “Not too beat to take me home and have your wicked way with me, I hope.”

“Very funny,” Steve chuckled, placing a soft kiss on Bucky’s temple.

“Okay, fine. We can skip that for tonight. How about I give you a foot massage instead?”

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, his arms slipping into a loose hold on Bucky’s hips, “I’m sorry. We can’t. Not tonight.”

Bucky twisted around and placed his hands loosely on Steve’s shoulders. Steve had shed his suit jacket, and Bucky could feel the hard outline of Steve’s deltoids under his fingertips. God, but he couldn’t wait to see what they tasted like. “Alright, you win. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“We just, I can’t bring you home with me, Buck. Not tonight.”

“Why?” Bucky wasn’t following. “I can sleep on the sofa, if you’re worried about the kids.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… Kate’s spending the night; I paid for her to stay all night so she didn’t have to walk home at 2 in the morning, and with her sleeping on the sofa that leaves you and me in my bed, and I just…”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Bucky slumped against Steve in resignation. “I’m just not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”

“I know,” Steve murmured against the top of Bucky’s head. “Me either.”

Bucky pulled away and gave Steve a quick peck on the lips. Because he could do that now, whenever he wanted. “I guess I’m gonna head home then. Good thing you’re not worried about me walking home at 2 in the morning, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to walk home, Buck. Peggy’s got a car. She’s driving us all home. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind dropping you off too.”

“Would you’d walk me to the door?”

Steve nodded. “And I’ll kiss you goodnight on the stoop.”

“While Darcy hangs out the window and catcalls?”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

Bucky kissed Steve one last time. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve let his arms slip from Bucky’s hips, grabbing Bucky’s hand at the last second as Bucky began to walk away. “Hey, wait. Come over for breakfast instead?”

Bucky smiled. That sounded perfect, spending a lazy New Year’s morning with Steve and the kids, all still in their pajamas. “Sure. What time?”

“I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”

“Can I bring anything?”

Just then Darcy sauntered by and leaned in, stage-whispering in Bucky’s ear. “He likes your cream cheese muffins.”

Steve’s face turned beet red.

 

* * *

 

_Sometime after 2 a.m._

**Steve: You still awake?**

**Bucky: Yep. Can’t sleep. You?**

**Steve: Same. Wish you were here. :(**

**Bucky: _(selfie of himself in bed with his hair sticking up in all directions)_**

**Bucky: You could’ve had this to keep you warm, but no, you had to go be all noble and shit. ;)**

**Steve: Yeah, I’ll have to work on that.**

**Bucky: That’s okay, you got me now.**

**Steve: So this is what I have to look forward to? Moral corruption?**

**Bucky: If you’re lucky. ;)**

**Steve: Goodnight, Buck. Sweet dreams.**

**Bucky: You too. xo**

 

* * *

 

_Friday afternoon, a little after 4 p.m._

Four days.

It had been four whole days since Steve had seen Bucky in person, and it sucked. New Year’s Day had been perfect; Bucky had come over for brunch and made muffins, while Steve had made bacon and eggs, and the four of them had spent the day watching movies and playing board games in their pajamas. Steve and Bucky had managed to find a few stolen moments alone to trade kisses, to hold each other and just breathe, to assure themselves and the other that this was real.

Having to say goodbye that night, knowing that they’d both be starting their respective new jobs and wouldn’t be able to get together until the weekend, was tough; finding moments during the week to connect had proven even more difficult. Steve ended up at the gallery every night until after 6; Bucky spent the bulk of his afternoons grading papers when he wasn’t in classes, and was often too beat to join Steve and the kids for dinner. So far they’d managed a few late-night phone calls after the kids had gone to bed, and a few odd text exchanges. It wasn’t the same as being together, but for now it would have to do.

Steve pulled out his phone during a free moment that Friday afternoon to reread them for the dozenth time that day.

 

_Tuesday, 10:41 a.m._

**Bucky: One of the students just came in wearing an Occupy Mars t-shirt**

**Steve: And you're drooling with jealousy, right?**

**Bucky: No, I just thought it was funny.  
**

**Bucky: Hey, my birthday is coming up, by the way.  
**

 

_Wednesday, 2:13 p.m._

**Bucky: This kid drew a cartoon of Dr. Erskine as Godzilla crushing the students. ( _Attached image_ )**

**Steve: Too bad we don’t have a test doodle art wing in the gallery. That one would be front and center.**

**Bucky: Too bad I don’t have a permanent classroom. I’d start one right here.**

_Wednesday, 6:04 p.m._

**Steve: Heading home for the day. I miss having you there to come home to.**

**Bucky: Want me to hand in my notice and come back to work for you?**

**Steve: No!**

**Bucky: So that’s how it is, huh? You got your fancy new agency sitter and now I’m old news. ;)**

**Steve: That’s not what I meant.**

**Steve: You love your new job and you’re good at it. I just miss you, is all.**

**Bucky: Yeah, I miss you too.**

 

He was just about to click his phone off and replace it in his pocket when a new message flashed across his screen.

 

**Bucky: Last class out for the day. I’m gonna go pick up Becca. Okay if we head to your place and hang out with the kiddos til you get home?**

Steve glanced at his watch to check the time. He could skip out early and head home; there wasn’t anything pressing going on that required his attention, so he probably could if he wanted. But leaving early just one week in would probably set a bad example, wouldn’t it? No, he'd just have to follow the rules. Damn.

 

**Steve: Sure. I’ll call Kate and let her know. Don’t have too much fun without me.**

**Bucky: Not making any promises. ;)**

 

Steve replaced his phone back in his pocket, fully aware that he was now sporting a goofy grin and unwilling or unable to do anything about it, despite the fact that he was stuck at work for another two hours. Let Peggy and Darcy tease him all they wanted; he was coming home to Bucky tonight. And now, not because he was paying Bucky to be there, but because Bucky wanted to be there.

 

* * *

 

_Friday evening, sometime after 10:30 p.m._

This. This is what Bucky had been missing these past few days. Steve’s lips, the way he kissed all slow and langorous, like he wanted to savor every moment; Steve’s arms, wrapping him up so thoroughly that Bucky couldn’t even think of getting away even if he wanted to; Steve’s little moans and sighs, the way his breath would hitch when Bucky would nip at the base of his throat, or the way he would sigh into Bucky’s ear, sending shivers down Bucky’s spine. He’d only had a few moments of this several days ago, and already he was addicted.

The kids had long since gone to bed, with Becca conked out in Sarah’s room, so Bucky was taking full advantage of finally having Steve all to himself after spending the bulk of the week apart. They’d managed to make it from the hallway to the sofa, Steve having decided that a makeout session in his bed would probably not be a good idea. Bucky argued that they’d have more privacy that way, but clearly it was a step Steve wasn’t willing to take just yet.

Bucky was okay with that, as long as Steve kept kissing him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t move things along a tiny bit, though.

He shifted his weight until he was leaning heavily over Steve, who finally got the message and lay down, pulling Bucky on top of him. They both groaned as they shifted and moved against one another, and Bucky was so tempted to just pin Steve down and keep going until Steve fell apart beneath him.

“God, Buck,” Steve sighed in between nips at Bucky’s lower lip. “I missed you. Missed this.”

“But we’ve never done _this_ before,” Bucky chuckled darkly against Steve’s mouth as he thrust against Steve, drawing another breathy moan out of that gorgeous mouth.

“I kinda like it, though.” Steve smiled, gazing into Bucky’s eyes for a moment before he dove back in and kissed Bucky again.

Steve began working his way back down Bucky’s jaw, one hand planted firmly between Bucky’s shoulder blades as the other began to work its way south. Bucky felt Steve’s hand grab a firm hold of his ass and squeeze, pulling them even tighter together, ratcheting up the intensity. “God, Steve,” Bucky groaned, pulling away and panting into Steve’s neck. “You gotta stop that.”

Steve traced his lip around the shell of Bucky’s ear, breathing hot against the sensitive skin there. “But I like seeing you like this.”

“We’re in the living room, for Christ’s sake. The kids could walk in at any moment.”

“The kids are asleep, and you’re being a prude.”

“I’m the prude?” Bucky couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not the one who wanted to wait, Mr. We’ve-Never-Even-Been-On-A-Date. If it were up to me, we’d be in your bedroom right now with the door shut and your dick in my mouth.”

“I’m sorry Buck, I really am.” Steve sighed, resting his head back against the arm of the sofa. “I guess I’m a little old-fashioned that way.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Bucky traced a finger across Steve’s forehead. “I don’t mind waiting. It’s just, could we keep it a little more on the PG-13 side of things? I don’t want to have to walk home with Becs at 11:00 with a massive boner. She’s starting to notice stuff and ask questions.”

“I’ll keep my hands above the waist from now on,” Steve chuckled. “Can we keep kissing, though? Because I was kinda enjoying that.”

“Absolutely.” Bucky traced Steve’s lips with his tongue before diving back in and tasting that luscious mouth.

“Daddy?” a tiny voice called out right next to Bucky, causing his heart to leap into his throat as he scrambled to climb off Steve.

“What is it, Joseph?” Steve asked as he sat up, all calm and cool as if he’d had this happen a hundred times before. Hell, maybe he had. And fuck, now Bucky was picturing Steve and his ex-wife.

“Why are you and Bucky kissing?” Joseph asked.

Steve glanced at Bucky for a moment and smiled, then turned back to his son. “Because he’s my boyfriend. Is that okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Joseph nodded. “I’m thirsty. Can I have some water?”

“Sure thing, Buddy.” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s knee and gave a squeeze as he stood up and took Joseph to the kitchen.

Bucky’s heart was pounding a mile a minute. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. They’d been caught. How long had Joseph been standing there? Had he heard Bucky mention wanting Steve’s dick in his mouth? Oh, God. Bucky groaned, burying his head in his hands. How was he ever going to face that kid again?

Well, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about walking home with a massive erection now.

Steve returned a moment later and sat down next to Bucky, a very deliberate six inches of space between them. “Sorry about that.”

“No, I’m sorry. I never should have said… fuck. He’s gonna be scarred for life, now, isn’t he?”

“He’ll be fine. He didn’t hear anything we said. Just saw us kissing.” Steve threw his arm across the back of the sofa, his fingers toying with the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. “You know, he told me he’s glad you’re my boyfriend. Because you’re funny, and you’re nice.”

Bucky smiled to himself. It did make him feel a little better, knowing that at least one of the kids had given them a ringing endorsement, despite the circumstances in which he’d found out. It didn’t completely eradicate the feeling of unease that was beginning to grow in Bucky’s gut about this whole thing, however.

“What?” Steve prodded.

Bucky looked over at Steve, who gazed back at him with such love and trust and openness. He really did love this man, and was willing to do whatever it took to make this work. It just hadn’t occurred to him until that moment just how much they had going against them. “This isn’t gonna be easy, is it?” he admitted.

“No,” Steve answered simply, giving the back of his neck a squeeze. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Bucky scooted over and leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder. “So you think we could maybe go on a date next weekend?”

“Absolutely.” Steve leaned in and kissed the top of Bucky’s head. “I’ll ask Kate if she can watch the kids. Or Nat. Or Sam. See? We’re making it work already.”

“But what about…” Oh, God. How was Bucky going to say it without sounding like a horny teenager? _I really want to have sex with you, Steve._ Nope, not like that. “What about after?”

Steve frowned for a moment, before nodding in recognition. “We’ll figure something out. Hey, maybe I can get a hotel room. Kate can stay the night. I’ll even splurge for someplace fancy. Sound nice?”

“Steve, no. That’s crazy. I don’t want you to have to spend some ridiculous amount of money every time we want to have sex. I mean, you and Sharon had to have done it when the kids were home, right?” And Bucky couldn’t believe he had just suggested that after the near heart attack he’d had after being caught kissing, but there it was. It had been a while since he’d been with someone, but he was pretty sure he could be quiet if need be.

“Yeah, but Buck, this is different. Our first time. I want it to be special, you know? Maybe just this once?”

Bucky relented, because Steve was just so earnest in his willingness to make Bucky happy. How could he say no? “Okay, but just once. And I’m splitting the cost of the hotel with you. And call Nat instead of Kate; she owes me a favor anyway.”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled. “All we need to do to have sex is plan it a week in advance. How romantic.”

“It will be romantic; I promise you that." Steve kissed the top of Bucky's head. "And it will get easier. We’ve only been together for five days. You need to learn a little patience.”

“And I could say something right now about all the things I could teach you, but I’m beat. I think I’m gonna get Becs and head home.” He clapped Steve on the knee and stood up.

Steve looked at his watch, frowning as he stood up. “Buck, no. It’s almost 11. And it’s twenty degrees outside. You can’t walk home with Becca like this.”

Bucky waved him off. “Then we’ll take a cab. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

Steve placed his hands on Bucky’s hips and pulled him in. “Stay here. Becca’s already asleep. I’ll lend you some sweats to sleep in.”

“I sleep naked.”

Steve blushed. “Not tonight you won’t, not in my bed.”

 _Not in my bed_. Bucky smiled, those words sending a little thrill down his spine. Steve hadn’t even entertained the thought of Bucky sleeping on the couch; he’d just up and invited Bucky into his bed. It was quite a change from just a few days ago when he’d not even wanted Bucky in the same house; and true, Kate had been there that night, but still. Bucky recognized it for the big step that it was.

And it _was_ cold out, after all. Bucky wouldn’t hesitate to head home if it was just him, but he did have his little sister to look after. “I’ll have to call Ma and let her know. See if she’s okay with it.”

“Okay.” Steve kissed Bucky one last time. “You call her. I’m gonna go get changed.”

Bucky pulled out his phone and called Winnie. He felt guilty for leaving his Ma alone like that, especially knowing that she’d soon be walking home from the subway in the same twenty degree weather that he was now trying to avoid, but she understood. Of course she did, she always did. Just like she’d understood without question when Bucky had told her a few days ago that he and Steve had started dating.

He hung up, making a mental note to do something special for his Ma to show his appreciation.

Bucky made his way back to Steve’s room, pausing briefly to peek his head into Sarah’s room to check on Becca. She and Sarah were both sleeping soundly in the bed, two peas in a pod. Steve was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, so Bucky joined him. Steve wordlessly handed Bucky a spare toothbrush and Bucky grinned as he opened it.

First an invitation to spend the night, and now his own toothbrush. This night was just getting better and better.

 

* * *

 

_A little after midnight_

Sarah awoke with a start. It was some weird dream that had woken her, something with secret passageways and hidden doors, the images now fading into the distance as dreamland began to dissipate and her bedroom took shape.

Huh. That was weird; Becca was still here. Sarah glanced at the pink clock on her nightstand just to be sure. 12:07. Something must be wrong. Bucky was supposed to come and get her and take her home. Why were they still here, then? Did Dad and Bucky fall asleep watching TV or something?

She slipped out of the bed and padded into the living room. The TV was off, and the sofa was empty. No Dad, no Bucky. So where were they? She tiptoed back down the hallway toward Dad’s bedroom, which was open a crack. Dad always kept his bedroom door open just a little in case she or Joseph needed him. Surely this counted, right?

The door creaked just a little as Sarah opened it, and she winced at the volume of the noise splitting the silent darkness. The soft glow of moonlight and street lamps streamed in through the window, illuminating the figures in the bed. _Figures_. Plural.

It was Dad. With his arms wrapped around Bucky. Bucky’s fingers were entwined with Dad’s, and Dad had his face snuggled up against the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky suddenly twitched in his sleep, and Dad tightened his arm around Bucky’s waist. Bucky settled back down with a sigh, and smiling as he slept on.

Sarah tiptoed back out into the hallway, pulling the door almost closed behind her, grinning from ear to ear.

_Finally!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little transitional chapter. Up next will be a bit of porn, and then we'll get back to the plot.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for bearing with me. Work is kicking my butt. I promise I will get to your comments one of these days! In the meantime, here, have some fluff/schmoop/porn. Also contains lots of switching pov. Let me know if it's confusing.

“Bucky, no. No way are we doing that.” Steve sighed; it was bad enough that he and Bucky had to discuss this over the phone – while they were both at work, no less – but for Bucky to suggest that? Steve was putting his foot down.

“Aw, come on, Stevie. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Steve sniffed a laugh; he’d had enough adventure for one year, thank you very much. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Okay, yeah, I see your point. But this is not the same as you being jobless and moving to Brooklyn! Come on, Steve. It’ll be fun. You’ll see. You need to learn to live a little.”

“I live plenty, Buck,” Steve huffed; dammit, now Bucky was getting under his skin. “Okay, fine. Maybe I could loosen up about a few things, but this? No way.”

“Give me one good reason why not.”

“One good… Seriously? Do I really need to list the reasons why it’s a terrible idea for us to just pick a hotel at random on Saturday night, walk in – with no luggage, mind you – and ask for a room?”

“Yeah, like you’d really show up to our date without an overnight bag,” Bucky laughed. “I’d bet my next paycheck you’ve already got one packed, with at least three pairs of underwear and an extra set of clothes for me, just in case.”

Steve ignored Bucky’s jibe; they both knew it was true anyway. “Not to mention the fact that we’ll end up paying twice as much without a reservation.”

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky teased. “This isn’t about the money, and you know it. Just admit you just don’t want to walk into some ritzy hotel looking like you’re about to get your freak on with some twink.”

Steve sighed. It was true that he’d prefer not to advertise his sex life to strangers; as far as Steve was concerned, things like that were private and should remain that way. However, he had a feeling that’s not what Bucky was getting at. “Buck, come on. First of all, you’re not a twink, and second of all, I don’t give two shits what some desk clerk thinks about me being with you. I’d be honored to be seen with you. Anywhere, anytime, under any circumstances.”

“Good. Because now I’m wearing red skinny jeans and black eyeliner on our date. And a fishnet shirt to show off my awesome bod.”

“ _Bod_? Really, Buck?” Steve laughed.

“Hey, you’re not the only one with a secretly chiseled physique hiding under their business suit. I do work out, you know.”

“Yeah? Doing what?”

Bucky chuckled. “Mostly lifting Becca. Listen, I gotta run. Call you tonight?”

“Sure. Take care, Buck.”

 

*

 

The thing was, though, Steve Rogers really liked to plan.

His ideal scenario for this date would’ve involved days of price-comparison, most likely booking something via Groupon or Priceline. He would’ve called around to at least a dozen restaurants before making reservations, making sure he had the map from the restaurant to the hotel marked on his phone, along with the best places for sightseeing along the way. But he could live a little, too (dammit, Bucky), so instead he was going to let the evening’s events unfold organically.

Well, at the moment it was still afternoon, but still. Bucky had been insistent that they meet while it was still daylight so that they could watch the sunset together. Steve had agreed, happy to know that underneath it all, Bucky was every bit as much the romantic as he was.

He and Bucky had also agreed that it would be best to meet outside Bucky’s apartment rather than have Steve come up to the door. It had been awkward enough asking Nat to spend the night so he and Bucky could have a night alone, especially considering they’d only been dating for two weeks now. But there was no way in hell Steve could walk up to Bucky’s door and look Winnie in the eye knowing full well that she’d know what they would be getting up to (or down to) later that night. Just… no.

Steve sent Bucky a quick text as he neared the apartment building. Bucky emerged just a moment later wearing dark jeans and a cobalt blue sweater, with a black pea coat, a scarf trailing behind, and a backpack hanging casually off one arm. God, he was breathtaking. Wasn’t it not too long ago that Steve had tried to convince himself that he wasn’t in love with this man? What an idiot he'd been.

“I knew you were bluffing about the skinny jeans and fishnets,” Steve grinned as he kissed Bucky hello.

“Mmm. Hello.” Bucky nuzzled into Steve’s neck. “They’re in my bag if you want to see them later, though.”

Steve pulled back and looked Bucky in the eye, searching for any sign that the man was still joking, and coming up lacking. “Are they really?” he asked, suddenly finding that the thought of Bucky in a see-through shirt was quite tantalizing.

“No,” Bucky laughed. “But judging by your reaction, I think I might have to dig ‘em out of the closet soon.”

“So, where are we headed?” Steve asked, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist as they headed down the street toward the subway.

“I was thinking Chelsea for dinner. There’s a seafood place there one of the professors said we have to try.”

“Seafood sounds perfect, actually.” Not so heavy that Steve would want to lie down and go to sleep right afterward. Because he planned on being awake, and active, for quite a while.

“Chelsea it is, then.” Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and leaned into him.

It took them an hour and one train line change to get there, during which neither one seemed in any hurry to fill the silence with conversation, instead contenting themselves with little kisses, secret smiles and touches, the occasional nuzzle. Steve could feel a slow burn beginning to smolder under his skin, and he barely felt the January cold when they finally emerged into the late afternoon Chelsea sunlight.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and entwined their fingers, igniting sparks up Steve’s arm. Good lord, if that’s what this man could do to him with just a simple touch of fingers against fingers, Steve wasn’t going to last long tonight.

“So, where is this place?” Steve asked, trying to distract himself from how worked up he was, relieved that his voice did not betray just how flustered he felt on the inside.

“Couple of blocks this way, I think,” Bucky answered, leading them toward the Hudson River.

“Sunset dinner on the river? That sounds nice.”

Bucky smiled smugly back at him. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

He led Steve along 14th Street until they reached an elevated walkway, which Steve now recognized from his NYU days as the old High Line railroad. Back then it had long since been abandoned and forgotten after the trains stopped running in the 80s; now, however, glimpses of foliage were visible from the street, and Steve was excited to see what views awaited them from above. Bucky pressed the elevator button, his smile barely containing the excitement that was evident in his eyes. Bucky was proud of this spot, Steve could tell.

When the doors parted and Steve stepped out into the open, the view took his breath away. It always amazed him how little pockets of paradise could exist like this in a city so densely packed with skyscrapers, yet here this place was, an elevated pedestrian park just a few blocks off the Hudson River.

“I heard they turned this into a park, but this is just… wow.” Steve looked up and down the pathway, taking in the view, suddenly sad that it was January and a little on the chilly side for a casual sunset stroll. “We have to come back here in the spring. This is gorgeous.”

Bucky smiled, snuggling into Steve’s side as he gazed out at the river. “I was still a student when this park opened. I spent so many afternoons out here doing homework, or just laying around, taking a nap. It was a lot more peaceful than the dorms, I can tell you that.”

“Yeah, if this park had been open when I was at NYU I would’ve spent every day here. This is gorgeous.” He turned to Bucky, giving him a slow kiss on the lips. “Thanks, Buck.”

“So,” Bucky began, a trace of cunning in his voice. “We could watch the sunset out here and grab dinner somewhere.” He turned Steve toward the South, pointing at a tall glass building in their sight line. “ _Or_ , we could watch from in there and get room service.”

“The Standard Hotel? Bucky, that place is expensive.”

“Not as expensive as if we had gone to Manhattan. Plus, you and I both make good money, and never spend it on ourselves. Come on, Steve. Live a little.”

Steve looked from Bucky’s hopeful face, to the river, and back to Bucky again, wondering how often Bucky was going to use that phrase on him. And how often it would work.

Probably every time, dammit. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”

 

*

 

Steve’s heart beat harder and faster as they entered the hotel lobby. This was it. It was real now. In a few moments he and Buck would be alone, and they would…

“Can I help you gentlemen?” the clerk interrupted Steve’s thoughts before they could stray too far into pornographic territory.

Steve placed his hands on the counter to keep them from shaking. “Yes, we were wondering if you had…”

Bucky placed a warm, steady hand on top of Steve’s. “We have a reservation, under Barnes.”

Steve turned sharply toward Bucky, cocking a questioning eyebrow. Bucky winked in response.

“Ah, yes. The Hudson Studio. Very good, sir. One moment.”

Steve kept quiet while Bucky finished checking them in, amazed that Bucky pulled this off without him knowing. That slow burn he’d felt earlier, cooling only slightly with the winter chill and the view from the park, was quickly turning into a roaring flame. Because the thought of Bucky planning all of this, taking charge? Was really fucking hot.

He let Bucky take his hand and lead him to the elevator.

 

* * *

 

Bucky threaded his fingers through Steve’s, once again relishing the warmth that radiated from Steve’s hands. He was a like furnace, that man, despite the fact that it was January and Steve hadn’t been wearing gloves.

He’d gotten a brief taste of what it was like to feel that warmth up close, the one night they’d spent together in the same bed. But the thought of feeling Steve’s fiery skin against his own from head to toe? Bucky shivered as he pressed the elevator button, not daring to look at Steve. He had a feeling that once they locked eyes this would all be over, and he wanted to respect Steve’s wishes of privacy. Not, you know, blow the guy here in the elevator.

His hands shook slightly as he fed the keycard into the door, needing two tries before the door finally unlocked with a click. Bucky walked in, still not looking at Steve, and calmly dropped his bag on the floor, removing his coat and scarf and placing them on top. Then, and only then, did he dare to turn around and look at Steve.

That was all it took. Steve was on him in an instant, pushing him back against the wall as they came together in a teeth-clashing, scorching kiss. It wasn’t long before Bucky could feel Steve’s erection thrusting up against him, insistent and hard enough to leave bruises. Well, Bucky was just going to have to do something about that.

He turned them around until Steve’s back was against the wall, reaching down to undo Steve’s pants, never breaking the kiss. It wasn’t until his fingers brushed against the slit in Steve’s boxers that Steve finally registered what was going on and pulled away, panting.

“Bucky, no, wait.”

“Steve, please.” Bucky kissed him on the lips, the jaw, down his neck. “Let me take care of you. You take care of everyone; let me just this once take care of you.”

“Not yet. I told you, I wanted our first time…”

Bucky placed a hand on either side of Steve’s face and smiled softly at him. “Baby, our first time together is still gonna be amazing. But if you don’t let me do this right now, something tells me our first time is gonna be over in less than two minutes. And I got plans for you later.”

Steve looked Bucky in the eye for a moment, his eyebrows pinched just the slightest little bit as he thought it over, and nodded.

Bucky didn’t need any more invitation than that. He sank down to his knees in one fluid motion, opened the fly of Steve’s pants a little wider, and pulled the elastic of Steve’s boxers down, revealing Steve’s cock. Damn, it was a thing of beauty. He knew it would be, after that brief hint of a glimpse he’d gotten through those paper-thin sweatpants, but up close it was so much better than he’d imagined. Full and thick, impressive in length… but now was not the time to sit back and admire. Bucky wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, flicking his tongue against the slit. Steve threw his head back and groaned in relief. Bucky glanced up at Steve, who had his eyes squeezed shut and was breathing heavily.

Bucky was pretty sure he could do better than that.

He hadn’t done this since college, and even then it was never with anyone nearly as well-endowed as Steve, but Bucky would certainly give it his best shot. He relaxed his throat and sucked Steve down as far as he could manage, which was… well, not as much as he wanted, but Steve sure as hell seemed impressed, judging by the raw sounds now coming out of his mouth.

“Bu… Bu… Bu…” Steve chanted. He couldn’t even get Bucky’s entire name out. Bucky smiled to himself as he pulled off for a moment, tonguing the sensitive underside of Steve’s cock.

Steve’s knees began shaking, his hips twitching in abortive movements as he tried to hold himself back. Well, Bucky didn’t want Steve holding back. He threw his arms up and braced Steve against the wall with as much force as he could manage as he swallowed Steve back down. Steve was completely incoherent now as Bucky set up a punishing rhythm, intent on getting him off as quickly as possible.

It didn’t take long before Steve’s moans became higher and higher pitched and he was pulsing hot and thick into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky swallowed every drop, thankful that Steve was a health nut and didn’t taste funky, and finally released his arms from Steve’s torso. Steve sank to the floor, his head falling against the wall with a thunk. He looked dazed, like he’d just had some sort of divine vision. Bucky scooted over and sat next to him.

“Remind me again,” Steve said, still panting, “why we didn’t do that weeks ago?”

“I don’t know, because you wanted to be all noble or some shit?”

Steve nodded idly. “Do me a favor. If I say something stupid like that again, punch me, will you?”

“I’m glad you approve,” Bucky laughed. He leaned over and kissed Steve, then smacked Steve on the thigh as he stood up. “Now get your pants back on, babe. We got this whole room for the night, so we should take advantage of more than just the wall next to the door.”

“I don’t know, this one spot on the floor is pretty comfy.”

Bucky held out a hand and helped Steve stand up. “Yeah, but you can’t see the view from down there.”

Only after Steve was fully on his feet, boxers and pants back where they belonged, did he actually look up and notice what Bucky was referring to. “Holy shit, Buck!”

Bucky smiled. “I know, right?”

He stood back and watched as Steve walked fully into their suite, where the entire far wall was made of windows facing the Hudson River. On one side of the room was the bed, framed in rich wood with white linens, and a small eating nook. On the other side was the bathroom, completely open with a glass-framed shower, and a deep bathtub large enough for two situated right in front of that window.

Bucky walked up behind Steve, snaking an arm around his waist. So you want to watch the sunset from over there?” he asked, pointing toward the bed, “Or over there?” He pointed toward the bathtub.

“Mmm. Decisions, decisions.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Room service,” a voice called out from the hallway.

“I’ll get that while you ponder our choices,” Bucky said, sliding his hand along Steve’s abdomen before walking away. Damn, he loved the feel of those ridges beneath his fingers.

“Wait, when did you order room service?”

“At the desk when we checked in. I guess you didn’t notice, what with all your blood rushing south,” Bucky chuckled as he opened the door.

“Good evening, sir. Your Champagne and strawberries. Where would you like me to set them up?”

Bucky turned to Steve. “Babe? Which side of the room we starting on tonight?”

 

* * *

 

This was not at all where Steve thought he’d be when he’d pictured their date.

He’d thought that, well, they’d have dinner in some nice restaurant first, unable to keep their eyes off each other as they spent their meal picturing all the things they’d do to each other, then rush to the nearest hotel and tear into each other the moment the door shut behind them. And that would’ve been fun, sure. But this? This was so much better.

He’d told Bucky to have the Champagne set up in the bedroom. They’d spent a few minutes sipping their drinks, feeding each other little bites of fruit, peppering each other with kisses. The urgency from earlier had subsided, so Steve had been intent on taking his time with Bucky while the sun set behind them. The Champagne had been such a good idea, helping to get the mood back on track.

But halfway through his second glass, Bucky suddenly jumped out of the bed, grabbed Steve’s hand, and announced, “Dance with me!”

Steve had protested, of course, with the usual I-don’t-dance and there’s-no-music, until Bucky turned on the clock radio and found an easy listening station for them to dance to. Steve had to admit, seeing Bucky there next to the window framed with that view, hips swaying softly with the music, that the man was beautiful. There was no way he could do anything other than get up and take Bucky’s hand.

“I’m glad you suggested this, Buck.” Steve smiled at his love, kissing his forehead and nuzzling their cheeks together. One hand was entwined with Bucky’s, while the other rested on Bucky’s hip, fingers just barely dipped below Bucky’s sweater. Steve could feel the play of muscles beneath Bucky’s skin as the man moved. He couldn’t wait to taste those muscles later.

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky sighed.

The song changed from soft jazz to a cheesy old 70s song that Steve halfway recognized, and he winced. Bucky just chuckled. “What, you don’t like Ambrosia?”

“Is that what this is? And how do you even know that?”

“Shut up. Don’t insult my music. This song is hella romantic.”

Steve was not convinced, cocking an eyebrow at Bucky. Bucky just started singing in response, soft and low in Steve’s ear.

  
_Sunrise_  
_There's a new sun a-risin'_  
_In your eyes_  
_I can see a new horizon_  
_Realize_  
_That will keep me realizin'_  
_You're the biggest part of me_

_Stay the night_  
_Need your lovin' here beside me_  
_Shine the light_  
_Need you close enough to guide_  
_For all my life_  
_I've been hopin' you would find me_  
_You're the biggest part of me_

_Make a wish, baby_  
_And I will make it come true_  
_Make a list, baby_  
_Of the things I'll do for you_  
_Ain't no risk, now_  
_In lettin' my love rain down on you_  
_So we could wash away the past_  
_So that we may start anew_

 

“Okay, I admit, that is pretty damn romantic, Buck,” Steve admitted. And it wasn’t just Bucky’s hands on his hip, or Bucky’s chest vibrating against Steve’s own as he sang, or Bucky’s breath hot against his neck, but the words. Somehow, it was just them.

Bucky smacked Steve lightly on the hip. “Quit interrupting while I’m singing, Stevie.”

 

_Forever_  
_Got a feelin'; that forever_  
_Together_  
_We are gonna stay together_  
_Forever_  
_For me there's nothin' better_  
_You're biggest part of me_

 

That was it. Steve grabbed Bucky’s face with both hands and kissed him.

 

* * *

 

The sun had almost fully set, casting a soft golden-orange glow on Steve’s skin. He was beautiful, both inside and out, and he was in Bucky’s arms. Not just for tonight, but as the song had said, forever. Those hadn’t been his lyrics, but Bucky had meant every word.

Then Steve suddenly cut him off, cradling his face with both hands, and kissed him, soft and sweet. When they parted, Steve locked eyes with him, and Bucky’s heart began jackhammering in his chest. This was it. It was really going to happen.

Bucky had wondered about this moment for weeks now; since he and Steve had first gotten together, he’d wondered what his boyfriend would be like in bed. Would he be the shy, blushing guy that Bucky had first met, the one who had gotten embarrassed at the slightest sexual comment? Or would he be the more assured, more confident man that Bucky now knew, the one who was brave enough to start over and create a life for himself out of nothing?

He knew what kissing Steve was like, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Steve kissed with his whole being, with this single-minded intensity, yet somehow focused everywhere on Bucky’s body at once. When Steve kissed him, Bucky felt it everywhere: Steve’s hands sweeping along his back, his ribs, squeezing his ass, tangled in his hair; Steve’s lips grazing along his jawline, tracing an ear, sucking purple bruises along his collarbone; Steve’s hips, rolling confidently and maddeningly against his own.

Would Steve make love the way he kissed, with that same intensity? This was, after all, his first time being with a man. Bucky was the more experienced one in this area, yet somehow when Steve looked at him, Bucky felt like the blushing virgin. It had been several years since he’d been with anyone, true, but he was hardly inexperienced. This, though, this was different. This was someone Bucky loved, and cared for, and respected, and wanted to be with forever.

This was Steve.

Steve wrapped both arms around Bucky’s waist, let his hands slip below Bucky’s ass, and in one fluid movement, picked Bucky up off the floor, never breaking eye contact. Oh, fuck, that was hot. Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve and held on, not daring to breathe.

Steve laid him down on the bed ever so gently, and Bucky scooted back until his head rested on the pillows. Steve followed, stalking along Bucky’s body, until he hovered just inches from Bucky’s face. He let his eyes rove over Bucky’s face, then back to Bucky’s eyes. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Bucky murmured in reply.

“Even before I realized what it was I felt, all I knew was…” Steve trailed off, tracing a fingertip along Bucky’s hairline. “You make my life better. From the moment we met, you…”

Bucky didn’t let Steve finish. He didn’t need to; they both knew, and they both felt it. He surged up and kissed Steve, pulling Steve down fully on top of him, and they both moaned into the kiss as their bodies finally, blessedly, came into full contact. Steve didn’t linger, there, though, stopping after a moment to pull away and slip his hands under Bucky’s sweater and undershirt. Bucky raised up just enough for Steve to pull them off the rest of the way, and reached for Steve. Why weren’t they kissing again already?

Steve had other plans, however, instead tracing his fingers along the planes of Bucky’s chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the jut of hipbone just above his waistband. It was light, teasing, sending goosebumps along his body, and sending all the blood in his body straight down south. Bucky would be embarrassed at how quickly he’d gotten fully aroused if it weren’t for the insistent press of Steve’s erection against his thigh.

It did not appear that Steve was in any hurry to do anything about it, however, content instead to continue tracing every dip and shadow along Bucky’s torso, looking at Bucky with something akin to wonder, as if Bucky’s body was anything to be amazed by.

“God, Buck,” Steve whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

Bucky didn’t quite know what to do with those words, so raw and honest. It was almost too intense, the warmth of love radiating from Steve’s gaze. Bucky was already rapidly approaching the brink, and Steve had barely touched him. “Please,” he pleaded. “Please, Steve.”

“What do you want? Anything, Buck.”

“I want you in me. Steve, please.”

Steve looked him in the eye for a long moment. Bucky was absolutely convinced Steve was going to say no and drag this out even further, but Steve surprised him, instead pulling off Bucky’s pants and boxers in one swift movement. Steve wasted no time kissing his way down Bucky’s body, at last wrapping his hand around Bucky’s erection. He gave one slow, teasing stroke, before stopping suddenly, resting his head on Bucky’s leg for a moment before pushing himself away. “Fuck!” Steve muttered under his breath, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and climbing off.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky jumped off the bed. What the hell was going on? Did Steve’s phone ring? Bucky hadn’t heard anything, but his mind had been otherwise occupied. Or was it more serious? Was Steve having second thoughts? Fuck, what if he didn’t want to do this anymore?

Bucky found Steve in the entryway, crouching down and digging through his bag. “I forgot the lube and condoms. I’m sorry, Buck. I should’ve stashed them by the bed earlier.”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Jesus, Steve. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I just figured, we’d better stop now, than, well, you know.” Steve stepped back toward Bucky, head hung in apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I wanted it to be perfect, you know?”

“Stevie, the only thing that’s not perfect about this is the fact that I’m standing here stark naked with a massive boner and you’re still completely clothed.”

Steve gave Bucky a small smile. “Sorry, Buck. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

Bucky placed his hands on Steve’s waist and inched closer. It was a miracle that his hard-on hadn’t wilted with the scare Steve gave him; if he could help it, he’d like to get things going again before his body figured out they had stopped. “It’s just me, Steve. Just you and me.”

“I know,” Steve nodded, breathless.

Bucky took the condoms and lube out of Steve’s hands and tossed them on the bed. He removed Steve’s shirt, discarding it on the floor, and started on Steve’s pants. Steve was mesmerized, not taking his eyes off Bucky.

“And in case you hadn’t noticed,” Bucky continued, slipping Steve’s pants and boxers down, “I was thoroughly enjoying what we were doing, and I’d kinda like to see what happens next.”

Steve stepped out of his pants and closed the distance between them, resting his forehead against Bucky’s. “I gotta be honest, Buck. It’s been a while since I’ve done this. Sharon and I, we hadn’t…” Steve trailed off.

“Three years for me,” Bucky admitted. “Not since college.”

“Sharon was my first.”

“Are we trading stories now?”

“No,” Steve smiled. “I love you so much, Buck. You have no idea.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Make love to me?”

Steve nodded, breath hot against Bucky’s face as he exhaled. He reached his hands up tentatively, threading his fingers through Bucky’s hair, finally dipping down to kiss him. Bucky opened his mouth and Steve instantly claimed him, mapping out every inch of Bucky’s mouth as if he didn’t already know it intimately. Bucky began walking them backwards toward the bed, startling when the backs of his legs hit the mattress. He sat down and moved back to his previous position, Steve following, never breaking contact, and at last Bucky was lying down, Steve fully atop him. Only this time, Steve was naked.

Oh, God, Bucky had thought kissing Steve was heaven. But kissing Steve while they were both completely naked, with Steve’s cock thick and hard and weeping against his belly in an obscene promise of things to come – if they kept this up much longer, Bucky was not going to last.

“Steve. Steve, please,” he pleaded. “Fuck me, please.”

Steve pulled away, giving Bucky one last peck on the lips as he reached for the lube and uncapped it. Bucky spread his legs in anticipation and sank into the mattress, head back, eyes closed, catching his breath. The first cold press of Steve’s lubed finger against his hole startled him. “Relax, Buck,” Steve whispered against his skin, placing a soft kiss against his ribs. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky relaxed and let Steve in, and time ceased to exist. The only thing that existed now was Steve’s hands on him, in him, Steve’s breath against his neck, Steve’s reassuring words against his skin. One finger became two, two became three, and as Bucky felt Steve’s pinky finger nudging against his entrance, he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer.

“I’m ready. Oh, God, Steve, I’m ready. Just, please.”

“Okay.” Steve gave Bucky a peck on the lips, nuzzling against his cheek before pulling his fingers out. “I got you, Buck.”

Bucky felt so empty, so incomplete without Steve’s fingers inside him, but in a moment he was going to be filled with Steve’s gorgeous cock. He took a moment to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, calming his racing heart rate. When he opened his eyes, Steve was kneeling over him, fingers shaking slightly as he slipped the condom on. Steve grabbed the bottle again and lubed up his cock, gasping at the cool, wet friction, and at long, sweet last, that cock was nudging against Bucky’s entrance, pushing inside.

Bucky couldn’t help it; he winced, gasping audibly when the head of Steve’s cock breached his rim. “Holy fuck!”

Steve stopped. “You okay, Buck?”

Bucky took a few deep breaths and nodded. “Give me a second. Jesus, Christ, you’re fucking huge.”

Steve smiled as best he could while straining to hold back. “Gee, Buck, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

It was the last thing Bucky had expected to hear, and so utterly _Steve_ that he couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing just enough to let Steve in fully. He reached his hands up, brushing a lock of sweat-soaked hair back from Steve’s forehead. It made him smile that Steve was already sweating. “So, you gonna start moving, or what?” he smirked.

Steve grinned back at him. “Geez, such a bossy bottom you are,” he replied with a hard snap of his hips, drawing an inhuman groan out of Bucky’s mouth. He was so utterly captivating. “God, Buck. You’re so beautiful like this.” Steve leaned down and kissed Bucky softly, slowly. “You’re always just so beautiful.”

Steve changed his angle slightly, settling fully on top of Bucky and taking some of the insistent pressure off Bucky’s prostate. He began moving more slowly, languidly, lazily. Bucky had never had sex like this; it was like Steve could’ve stayed there all day inside him, mapping out Bucky’s skin with his hands and his mouth. Bucky traced his fingers along the places of Steve’s back, learning the muscles and how they moved as Steve moved, which ones made Steve gasp or moan when he pressed his fingertips against them, which ones flexed when Steve thrust in and out of him. It was exquisite.

They moved together for what could’ve been a few minutes, or could’ve been hours. The sun’s golden-orange glow slowly faded, replaced with velvet moonlight and the flashing city lights from across the river, and Steve still showed no sign of being anywhere near ready to quit. Bucky, however, was spiraling higher and higher, approaching the brink with an inevitability that was almost disappointing.

They didn’t have to leave until 11:00 the next morning, he reminded himself. There was always round two. And three. And maybe four.

“Steve, baby, I’m not gonna last,” he panted. “I’m close.”

“You close?” Steve murmured into his jaw. “You gonna come for me?”

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky nodded, digging his fingers into Steve’s back.

“How do you want me?” Steve asked, punctuating his question with a nip of teeth against Bucky’s neck, mixing a little bit of pain with the sweet, persistent pleasure.

“Oh, God!” Bucky gasped. “Like that!”

Steve seemed to get the message, thank God, because he raised up onto his knees, threw Bucky’s ankles over his shoulder, and thrust into Bucky hard and unrelenting, hitting Bucky’s prostate with every single snap of his hips. It was all Bucky could do to tangle his fingers into the comforter and hold on for dear life as Steve fucked into him. And when Steve wrapped one single, bulging arm around both of Bucky’s legs, freeing his other hand to stroke Bucky’s cock, that was it. Bucky’s vision blacked out for a moment as he came, with Steve’s name on his lips followed by a string of curse words. Then Steve’s eyes locked on Bucky’s as he climaxed, his face twisted into the most gorgeous expression Bucky had ever seen.

Bucky would never tire of seeing Steve’s face when he came. It was as if Steve was experiencing a revelation, something completely surprising and unexpected, like he had been given this precious gift and couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have it. It was an expression that radiated profound love, and complete and utter trust. It was humbling to witness, knowing that he was only the second person in Steve’s life that Steve had trusted enough to share it with.

Bucky placed both hands on either side of Steve’s face and kissed him as they both came down from their high. “Well, if this is what it’s like when you’re nervous, then I can’t wait to see you when you’re on your A-game.”

He would also never tire of hearing Steve’s laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Photos of the hotel room](http://www.oyster.com/new-york-city/hotels/the-standard-high-line/photos/standard-suite-standard-suite-the-standard-new-york-v286783/)
> 
> And there's probably no way Bucky would've been able to book that particular room on such short notice, but just go with it anyway, will you?
> 
>  
> 
> [Photos of High Line Park ](http://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/the-high-line/photos)
> 
>  
> 
> [And for those of you who have never heard the song before](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bOm0Dq_kKNU)
> 
>  
> 
> So, yeah. I have a thing for 70s soft rock. And I don’t care what anyone says, this song is hella romantic.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you'd started to think a new chapter was never coming, huh?

This was perfect. A perfect end to a perfect first time, and it was just so unbelievable _them_ that Steve could not stop grinning.

He had wanted to relax afterwards with a long soak in the enormous bathtub and enjoy the view out the window. Bucky, however, had other plans; he’d wanted to order some greasy junk food from room service and get fueled up for the round two which they both knew was happening before they called it a night.

Steve wouldn’t budge; his muscles were beginning to complain from the exertion (Hey, it _had_ been a while). Bucky wouldn’t budge either; his stomach began growling halfway through their disagreement. Finally Steve, ready to give in anyway, just rolled his eyes and jokingly suggested, “Fine. Why don’t we do both, then?”

Which was how they ended up eating their burgers and fries in the bathtub.

“Do you have any idea how disgusting it is how much ketchup you put on that thing?” Steve asked after watching Bucky slather both buns _and_ pour a puddle for dipping that was bigger than the burger itself.

“At least I don’t have to worry about dripping on my shirt, right?” Bucky grinned as he took a too-big bite, deliberately dripping ketchup on his chest in the process.

Steve shook his head, stifling a laugh. “I can’t ever take you out in public for burgers, now, can I?”

Bucky took another bite, intentionally smearing ketchup over half his face. “Why, do I embarrass you, Stevie?” he asked, his mouth full of half-chewed burger. It was far funnier than it should have been, considering Steve was a grown man who had long-ago learned not to laugh when his kids did it, but he couldn’t help giggling at how ridiculous Bucky looked.

“See?” Bucky teased. “You like it.”

Steve threw a french fry at him. Bucky fished it out of the water and threw it back at Steve, splashing a little too much in the process. “Hey!" Steve protested. “If you get my burger wet, so help me…”

Bucky just grinned, flashing that knowing smile that just made Steve fall for this man a little more each time he saw it. He took another bite and sighed, the heat relaxing him a little more, and looked past Bucky at the view beyond. The New Jersey skyline twinkled in the moonlight, reflecting rainbows across the river. It was perfect. He couldn’t have picked a better spot for their first night together if he’d had months to plan.

The moment Bucky sensed Steve was done eating he set the rest of his food down on the tray and pushed it away from the tub, floating across to seat himself between Steve’s legs. “This okay?” he asked, settling his back against Steve’s chest.

“More than okay, Buck,” Steve murmured in reply, placing a kiss at Bucky’s temple as he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s torso. “Any time you’re in my arms, it’s okay.”

“Just okay?” Bucky breathed as Steve began stroking his chest.

“It’s wonderful. Amazing. Breathtaking. Mind-blowing,” Steve answered, peppering Bucky’s neck with kisses as he felt his dick begin to harden again. God, but the things this man did to him.

Bucky let out a shaky breath. “Steve?” he asked.

Steve wasn’t sure exactly what Bucky was asking, but his answer was yes. Always yes. He hummed his reply into the skin behind Bucky’s ear as his fingers toyed with Bucky’s nipples. Bucky threw his head back and let out a long groan, taking a few deep breaths to center himself again. And then in one fluid motion he raised up, reached behind himself and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s cock, and sank back down on it.

It surprised Steve, the suddenness with which he was once again enveloped in the tight heat of Bucky’s body, and he cried out. The water had washed some of the lube away so it wasn’t quite as slick as before; it took all of Steve’s self-control to fight the urge to thrust into Bucky’s body with abandon. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s chest and squeezed, rested his forehead against the back of Bucky’s neck as he panted through those first few moments.

At last he began to relax enough to move again, but Bucky took the reins this time, moving his hips in shallow circles as he undulated his entire body against Steve’s. God, he was beautiful, the way he moved, the way he reveled in each brush of Steve’s fingers across his chest, the way he gasped almost with his whole body when Steve’s fingers slipped into the water and began stroking his cock. It was all too soon before Steve was coming, holding onto Bucky for dear life as the orgasm wracked his body. Bucky followed a moment later with a soft cry that Steve would never tire of hearing.

They lay there for a minute, silent and still as they regained their breath. Steve could not delay the inevitable any longer, however, finally reaching down to slip his softening cock out of Bucky’s body.

Then it suddenly hit him, and his eyes widened at the realization. “Shit!”

Bucky turned around, water slapping wildly against the walls of the tub. “What? What is it?”

Steve closed his eyes, covering his face with both hands. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless, so stupid. “We forgot to use a condom, Buck.”

Bucky pulled Steve’s hands from his face. He smiled softly, kissing Steve on the corner of the mouth. “I know. I wanted to. Wanted to feel you.”

Steve shook his head “We shouldn’t…”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in years. And you haven’t since Sharon, right?”

Steve frowned. He hadn’t wanted to bring this up before, hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood with talk of past partners, but now he felt such complete shame that he wished he had. “Buck, Sharon cheated on me. For over a year. And who knows who that guy had been with besides her? God, I never should have been so careless. I should’ve gotten tested months ago. And now I may have put you at risk… And oh, God, you had your mouth on me before! Buck, if anything happened to you because of me…”

Bucky silenced him with another kiss. “Stop it, Stevie. This isn’t on you, you hear me? And I can stop by the campus clinic first thing Monday. Nothing’s going to happen to me that we can’t fix, okay?”

Steve looked in Bucky’s eyes, so full of hopeful innocence. He wanted to set Bucky straight, wanted to tell him that yes, bad things could potentially happen, but dammit, just this once he wanted to believe that Bucky was right. “Okay, yeah. I’ll call first thing Monday and make an appointment too.”

“And in a couple of weeks, you’ll see that there was nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Steve conceded. “But in the meantime? No more slip-ups, okay? I want you to stay safe.”

Bucky nodded. “Fine. But can we maybe stay safe in bed where it’s warm? Water’s getting cold.”

*

Later that night, they had round 3, Bucky all gorgeous and sinewy as he rode Steve.

The next morning, they christened that glassed-in shower.

With condoms, both times.

 

* * *

 

Steve had thought that walking into his doctor’s office to ask for an STD test was one of the worst experiences of his life, but he was wrong.

Waiting two weeks for the results to come in? That was infinitely worse.

Jumping every time the phone rang wondering if that was going to be the phone call letting him know that one of the tests came back positive (or more than one positinve, oh God), whether it would be Bucky calling to let Steve know that his results had come back positive… and the guilt. The stupid, consuming, completely avoidable guilt that Steve felt, because he knew better. He knew better than to let this go unchecked for so long.

Bucky tried his best to console Steve, letting him know over and over again with whispered words and sweet midday text messages that this was in no way Steve’s fault; he had, after all, had other things on his mind in the wake of the divorce.

It was a minor relief, then, that Bucky had a busy couple of weeks ahead and would be spending most of his time at home, and that Sarah’s birthday was the weekend following their big date, so Steve wouldn’t be spending date night alone wallowing in guilt and uncertainty. Taking his princess out for a fancy dinner and ice skating at Rockefeller Center while Joseph and Uncle Sam had their guys’ night definitely went a long way toward making things better. Because if nothing else good came from his time with Sharon, at least he had this. He had Sarah, and he had Joseph. He had Sam and Nat, and Pepper and Darcy and Peggy.

And Bucky – his dear, sweet Bucky who’d showed him the light at the end of a dark, bleak tunnel, who continually shed light on places in Steve’s life where he’d never even realized there were shadows. Bucky was right; there was nothing coming that the two of them couldn’t handle. Together.

Steve just wished that he could skip the “waiting for the hammer to drop” part and get right to the “handling things” part.

*

It was a Thursday, a full eleven days after Steve had had to walk into his doctor’s office and have the most awkward conversation of his life, when his phone buzzed with the good news.

 

**Bucky: I’m clean, babe. All negative. Call you later when I get a free minute. Love you!!**

**Bucky: BTW, I’m coming over tonight and we’re celebrating. Naked.**

 

Steve let out the breath he’d been holding and felt himself relax fully, probably for the first time since the bathtub. Bucky was okay; that was the most important thing right now.

**Steve: I’m so glad, babe. See you tonight. xo**

**Steve: God, I am so sorry to put you through this. I promise to make it up to you.**

**Bucky: Steve ffs THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT!!**

**Bucky: I will still let you make it up to me, however. It’s been almost 2 weeks and I miss your gorgeous cock.**

**Bucky: The way you fill me up, your thick dick hitting my sweet spot on every thrust, god, Steve, you’re so fucking good at that.**

**Bucky: Wish you were here right now so you could see what you do to me.**

**Steve: Bucky jfc I have a meeting with Pepper and Coulson in 10 minutes. I AM NOT HAVING PHONE SEX WITH YOU. See you tonight.**

 

He turned his phone off, a smile on his face. An hour later he turned it back on to find another text from Bucky – an image of Bucky’s spent cock spilling out of his pants, and his hand covered in come.

 _Holy shit_ , Steve suddenly realized. _That’s Erskine’s office!_

This man was going to be the death of him, for sure.

*

That photo kept him going for the rest of the day, but when Steve got home and saw that envelope he’d been waiting on sitting in his mailbox, everything came slamming back into the forefront of his mind.

He should probably wait and open it later after the kids have gone to bed, right? In case it was bad news? But then again, doctors didn’t send bad news via snail mail; they called you and told you to come back to the office so they could tell you in person.

Steve sat down at the top of the stairwell outside his apartment door, took a deep breath, and tore the envelope open.

 _We are pleased to inform you that your recent STD test panel has come back negative_.

Steve quit reading after that. _Negative._ This was good news; he should be happy, right? Now he could quit worrying and get on with his life, resume his happily-ever-after with his boyfriend. His sweet, amazing boyfriend who was coming over later for dinner and would probably end up baking brownies with Steve’s kids before he took Steve to bed for another round of mind-blowing sex. Life should be good. Hell, life _was_ good.

So why did Steve still feel like shit?

 

* * *

 

Bucky could tell Steve was distracted.

If there was one thing he’d learned pretty quickly about his boyfriend, however, it was that regardless of whatever was going on in Steve’s life, the kids came first. So Bucky kept his concerns to himself during meal prep, giving Steve the occasional reassuring smile or squeeze to the shoulder every time he walked by. He kept the conversation flowing during dinner, asking Sarah tons of questions about her night out with her dad and Joseph about his guys’ night with Sam. He even steered their after-dinner entertainment away from the television, knowing full well Steve would sit there and spend the whole time in his own mind stewing about whatever-it-was, suggesting a board game instead.

Five minutes in Steve was smiling and laughing more than Bucky had seen all night. Whatever was bothering him still hovered at the edges, but didn’t seem to overwhelm Steve so much anymore. And when Steve locked eyes with Bucky and gave him a small smile and a nod of the head, Bucky knew it was Steve’s way of saying “thank you.” He smiled back and winked his “you’re welcome” in return, and he and Steve went back to letting the kids kick their asses.

*

Finally, hours later after Bucky tucked in Joseph and Steve tucked in Sarah, Bucky joined Steve on the sofa. Steve immediately curled into Bucky’s side, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. “Thanks for tonight,” he murmured into Bucky’s skin. A sweet, simple sentiment, but the actions sent shivers down Bucky’s spine, and his dick gave an interested twitch in anticipation of things to (hopefully) come.

“You want to talk about what’s bothering you, now?” Bucky asked, in spite of where he’d rather be taking things. Sex could wait, he told his dick. Steve needed him right now.

Steve sighed and flopped back on the sofa, putting several inches of space between himself and Bucky. “I got my results today.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold. “Was it… are you…?”

Steve shook his head. “It’s okay, Buck. All negative.”

Bucky frowned, but before he could get his next words out Steve continued.

“It’s just… I’m so fucking mad at Sharon for putting me – for putting _you_ – in this situation.”

Bucky leaned over and carded his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Baby, it’s normal to be mad at your ex-wife, especially under these circumstances.”

“I know,” Steve sighed, leaning into Bucky’s touch. “I just thought I was over being angry at her, you know? I mean, life is good now, and I love you so much. And most of the time I’m grateful for the time she and I had together, because she gave me these two wonderful kids. But right now?”

“You want to wring her neck?”

“Yeah.” Steve sniffed a laugh. “Does that make me a horrible person?”

“Baby, no.” Bucky leaned over, stretching his legs across Steve’s lap and wrapping his arms around Steve’s torso like an octopus. “You’ve had some horrible things happen to you. Being angry about them once in a blue moon doesn’t make you a horrible person; it makes you human.”

Steve leaned his forehead against Bucky’s. “You really think so?”

“You really think I would date a horrible person?” Bucky joked, glad to see Steve’s lips crack into the slightest bit of a smile. “Seriously, though. You’re one of the best people I know. And to be honest, I don’t have a friggin’ clue how someone could do to you what Sharon did. I mean, she _has_ met you, right?”

Steve threaded his fingers through Bucky’s. “Yeah. We were a lot younger then, though. Different people, really.”

Bucky watched as Steve slid his fingers against Bucky’s, watching their knuckles skim across each other, and saw the pain etched across Steve’s face. It broke his heart how much Steve had gotten hurt, how much he probably still hurt in some ways. After all, he hadn’t really been given a chance to really mourn that loss before he was thrust into his new role as a single dad. “Hey. Steve. Baby. You want to talk about this?”

Steve frowned a moment, still sliding his fingers across Bucky’s, still watching as if their joined hands held the secret of life. Finally he seemed to relax a bit, letting out one last sigh, some sort of decision made. “No,” he declared. “I don’t want to spend our first night together in almost two weeks talking about my ex.”

“Are you sure? Because I have it on pretty good authority that I’m a great listener.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Steve murmured, pulling at Bucky’s arm until Bucky was sprawled across his lap. “No more talking.”

Bucky smiled into their kiss. “I think I can get on board with that.”

“You have to be very quiet, though,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips in between kisses. “No screaming like at the hotel.”

Bucky pulled back and leveled a look at Steve. “My bed is within twenty feet of a three-year-old and my mother. I mastered the silent orgasm a long time ago.”

Steve grinned, and pulled Bucky back in. “Well, I’d hate to let all that good practice go to waste…”

*

Bucky remained silent.

He remained silent as Steve kissed him until he was a writhing, panting mess; God, how Steve did that with just _kissing_ Bucky would never figure out, but he was sure thankful for it.

He remained silent as Steve led him down the hallway to the bedroom and stripped him slowly, one tantalizing item of clothing at a time, worshipping every newly revealed expanse of skin with his lips and tongue.

He remained silent as Steve laid him down on the bed and slowly, teasingly removed his own clothing until he was standing there, all 6 feet of muscled perfection bathed in moonlight, cock jutting up thick and proud just for Bucky.

He almost broke for a moment when Steve stalked toward him on the bed, flipped him over, and licked a long, slow strip between his cheeks, but he held in the moans, digging his teeth into the meat of his forearm as Steve opened him up with lips and tongue.

He remained silent when Steve opened him up further with slick fingers, pulled him up onto his knees, and pushed inside. He remained silent as Steve wrapped tender arms around him and pulled their bodies flush as they moved. And he remained silent when Steve wrapped a skillful hand around his erection, wringing one of the most powerful orgasms of his life out of him.

Bucky didn’t make a sound. Neither did Steve. It was the single hottest fucking thing Bucky had ever experienced.

But afterward, after they had cleaned up and kissed each other down from their highs and they lay spooned in bed, all tangled limbs and satiated smiles, Steve pulled Bucky close and whispered, “I love you, Buck.”

Bucky whispered back, “I love you, too.”

Because some rules were just meant to be broken.

 

* * *

 

Steve glanced up from his computer as Darcy sauntered in and flopped down on the sofa next to his desk. “Darcy, do me a favor, will you? The next time I get the urge to utter the words ‘slow day,’ smack me, will you?”

“Tough day at the office, Cap?” Darcy smirked.

Steve just shot her a look and turned back toward his computer, glancing at the clock on the screen. Was it really just six hours ago that he’d casually joked to Darcy and Peggy, _“Hey, it looks like it’s shaping up to be a bit of a slow day. Maybe we can close up early, huh?”_

Lesson learned.

Not ten minutes later, a school tour group had come through – one that had completely neglected to call first; Steve had made a mental note to add that in big, bold capital letters to the “tours” page on the web site – but Peggy, amazing woman that she was, swooped in and handled the whole thing flawlessly. That was, until halfway through the tour, when Pepper showed up with one of her actress friends on their way to lunch, and the whole thing devolved into an extended autograph-  and selfie- session.

Pepper was probably going to have to start calling first as well.

By lunch time everything had calmed down, however. That was, until Darcy pointed out that the pictures from the New Year’s Eve gala hadn’t yet been put on their web site. Steve sheepishly retreated to his office, embarrassed to admit that he hadn’t even thought about that web site ever since he’d handed off the page design to one of Stark’s guys two months ago. Once he pulled up the page, though, it was all too clear that he’d made a huge miscalculation. Some of the pages looked vaguely like the ones he'd signed off on, but mostly it was just… half-assed.

He’d been cooped up in his office trying to fix it ever since. And at the rate he was going, being months out of practice in web design, he was going to have to call Bucky and cancel their dinner plans for tonight, since it looked like he’d be up pretty late getting it done. Well, it was Friday so said “dinner plans” were nothing more than Bucky bringing Becca over to order pizza or something similar, but still. Plans were plans, and Steve hated canceling because of something as idiotic as work.

“You could say that,” Steve huffed. _Tough day_ was a bit of an understatement. “I appreciate you not taking me up on the offer to smack me, though.”

“No offense, Cap, but a me-versus-you smackdown would hardly be a fair fight. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Steve just smiled and turned back to his computer; his brain was way too preoccupied at this point to come up with anything close to a good response to Darcy’s teasing right now.

“So,” Darcy continued, suddenly serious, “I hate to interrupt, because I know you’re busy, but you have a customer outside.”

Steve frowned. “Can’t you or Peggy handle it? I’m kinda busy here.”

Darcy shook her head. “Tried that. Says she’ll only deal with you.”

That got Steve’s attention. ‘Who is it?”

Darcy shrugged. “Never seen her in here before. She makes good money, though, judging by her Louboutins.”

Steve wasn’t even going to pretend to know what that meant. “Fine,” he huffed. “Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute. Two tops.”

Darcy nodded and left Steve alone to save the page he was on and make some last-minute notes so he could (hopefully soon) pick back up where he’d left off. He took a moment to stop by the men’s room and check himself in the mirror, making sure he didn’t look as disheveled as he felt, and finally emerged into the gallery. He glanced around, not immediately spotting anyone who fit Darcy’s description, and looked to Darcy as he spread his hands in a “where is she?” gesture. Darcy pointed to the far wall where a blonde woman stood examining some of the local artists’ work.

He tried to place her but, being only able to see the back of her head, just couldn’t put a name with, well, the hair. This was definitely not one of the usual patrons.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, ma’am,” Steve said by way of greeting, stopping dead in his tracks when the blonde head turned around and gave him a small smile.

“Hello, Steve.”

“Sharon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for bearing with me while I get this written. My work schedule is getting a little less crazy, but that sort of means that my old writing routine just isn't working now because my hours have changed, and it's tough coming up with a new writing routine. I'm working on it, though!
> 
> p.s. the STD thing is not going to be a plot point again. That part of the story is over and done with, so you don't have to worry.
> 
> p.p.s Steve's birthday date with his daughter will be in one of the timestamps after this is all wrapped up.
> 
> p.p.p.s. I adjusted Steve's salary at the gallery (back in chapter 3) from $50k to $120k based on a reader's recommendation. I guess in hindsight it was a little low, considering what he does and who he works for. It shouldn't make a difference in the story, though.


	14. Chapter 14

Steve would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this moment.

He wasn’t one to prepare a speech for such an occasion; his opinion of his ex-wife vacillated too much for that. Some days he looked back on the good times the two of them had shared – the Christmases and Thanksgivings and birthdays – and he was glad to have had her in his life, despite the way things ended.

Today was not one of those days.

“Sharon, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Sharon’s eyebrow twitched minutely in surprise. “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Steve.”

“Cut the crap, Sharon. Just say what you came to say so I can go back to work and get home to my kids.”

Sharon winced. “Wow. You don’t pull your punches these days, do you?”

“There’s a lot of things I do differently these days,” Steve replied cryptically, mulling over whether to mention his new boyfriend now or save that particular gem for later.

“Well,” Sharon sighed, “I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to tell you in person. I thought you deserved to hear it from me first.”

Steve was losing what little patience he had left. “Hear what?”

“I’m filing a motion to reduce the child support, at least temporarily. And before you say anything, it’s not what you think.” She looked off to the distance for a moment, her lip quivering so slightly that Steve almost missed it; whether it was genuine or just for show he couldn’t decide, and it angered him even more that he couldn’t tell either way.

“I quit my job last week,” Sharon finally admitted, taking a deep breath before looking Steve in the eye once more. “I don’t want to bore you with the details. Let’s just say the past couple of years I’ve seen some less than savory practices, and I just couldn’t stomach it anymore.”

 _Wow. You couldn’t stomach something dishonest? That’s a new one._ Steve bit his tongue, though, keeping the jibe to himself. “How did _Brock_ take it?” he asked instead, practically snarling the bitter word.

“I don’t think he wasn’t all that surprised, considering I moved out a few weeks ago.”

Steve sighed. Today was not the day to hear this. His patience was already worn thin from working on the web site – which he shouldn’t have had to fucking fix in the first place – and now this. Well, this conversation had already gone on for too long, and he really did not have time for Sharon’s pity party. “Look, Sharon, I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your little side piece, but I really don’t have time to play therapist. I have a job to get back to. You know, so I can support the two kids you walked out on?”

“Steve, that’s not fair.”

That did it. All that anger, simmering so heatedly just below the surface, came spewing out. “ _Not fair_? You want to talk about ‘not fair’? ‘Not fair’ is having to explain to the kids how mommy left and is never coming home. ‘Not fair’ is having to take them away from their friends and leave the only home they have ever known to move in with my college roommate to a two bedroom walk-up in Brooklyn. ‘Not fair’ is Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and birthdays, watching their little hopeful faces, knowing that the only thing they really want is a phone call from mommy, and that it’s not coming.”

Sharon looked as if she’d been punched in the gut.  Steve could’ve stopped there, but his mind flashed to when he’d worn that same expression, when she’d walked out on him, and something inside him just had to twist the knife in further.

“’Not fair’ is having to get tested for 10 different sexually transmitted diseases just so I can have a normal relationship with my boyfriend, because _you_ thought it was perfectly acceptable to bring another person into our marriage.”

Sharon’s eyes widened visibly at the word ‘boyfriend,” but she schooled her expression quickly. “Look, Steve,” she sighed, blinking back tears, “I’m sorry for the way things happened. For what it’s worth, I really am truly sorry. If I could go back and do things differently, I would. But I can’t, so for now all I can do is try to do better for you and the kids from now on. And I’m sorry, again, that the first step in that is to reduce your child support, but I couldn’t in good conscience keep working for HydraTech after the stuff I’ve seen. So until I find a new job and get back on my feet, I’m staying with my sister. In the meantime I’ll send what I can, okay?”

She paused, reaching into her purse and pulling out a business card. “Here’s her number. I don’t have a cell at the moment, since my old one was issued by Hydra. But, you know, just in case you need to reach me, this is where I’ll be for the time being.”

Steve pocketed it without a glance and said nothing. He’d said what he needed to say.

“Well, anyway. I won’t keep you. I just thought you deserved to hear all this from me instead of the attorney. After everything, I owed you at least that much.” She started to leave, but turned back and gave Steve a sad, strained smile. “And Steve? For what it’s worth? I miss you guys. A lot. Maybe I could call you sometime, say hi to the kids?”

Steve visibly startled at that. What the hell did she expect him to say? He had basically just verbally eviscerated her and now, what, she wanted to have some sort of happy family reunion? _Sure, Sharon, that’d be great. In fact, why don’t you come over for dinner? I’ll make spaghetti. We’ll have a few beers and talk about the old times while the kids watch “Monsters, Inc.” Hey, maybe Bucky can bake a cake, huh? Wouldn’t that be fun?_

Sharon looked up at Steve expectantly for a beat (as if he could possibly sort out his shocked and utterly flabbergasted thoughts into a cohesive response that quickly), but seemed to realize pretty quickly that Steve wasn’t going to answer. “I see,” she nodded. “Well, at least tell them I love them, okay?”

And with that, Sharon turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Steve stunned and still a little pissed off, wondering what the hell just happened and what he was going to do about it.

 

* * *

 

Bucky couldn’t be sure, but there was a distinct possibility that George Barnes was the devil incarnate.

It was the only explanation as to why Becca insisted on acting like the spawn of Satan, a holy terror throwing tantrum after tantrum all night. Thank God Ma had gotten off work early, just in time to calm Becs down and put her to bed. Unfortunately for Bucky, though, Steve said he’d be pulling some all-nighter working on the gallery’s web site so Bucky couldn’t head over there and salvage what was left of the night.

In the absence of having an actual boyfriend to share a bed with, the next best thing would have to do (no, not _that_ – there was no way in hell he was gonna have some fun alone time thinking about Steve when Ma was sleeping in the next room over. True, Winnie was a pretty heavy sleeper, but still. _Ick_ ). Instead Bucky flopped down on his bed, pulled out his laptop, and began planning his and Steve’s next big date night. Valentine’s Day was coming up soon, and while Bucky had never been big on that particular Hallmark holiday, he had a feeling Steve was.

Plus, this would be Bucky’s first V Day with an actual boyfriend; that would make it different, right? Better? Worth celebrating despite the inherent lameness? Yeah, he thought so too.

So there Bucky was, just after 11:00 on a Friday night, alone in his room Googling “Valentine’s Day ideas for him” and “Valentine’s Day NYC.” Too bad it was still winter; it would be great to rent a car and drive to the Jersey shore before dawn, watch the sunrise over the ocean, have a nice breakfast right there on the sand…

God, he was turning into a sap.

Bucky’s phone chirped; it was Steve. Hey, maybe he could salvage this night after all, if Steve was done working. “Hey, babe. How’s that web site looking?”

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice sounded shaky, immediately setting off alarm bells.

Bucky swung his legs off the bed and started searching for his shoes. “What’s wrong?”

“Is your mom home from work yet?”

“Yeah, she got off early tonight. She and Becca are both in bed. Steve, what’s going on?”

“Can you come over?” Steve didn’t sound like he'd been crying, but something was definitely wrong. “Something happened today. I… I need you.”

“I’m on my way.”

 

*

 

“So, you think she wants you to take her back?”

Bucky had been idly running his fingers up and down Steve’s spine in what he had hoped was a soothing gesture while Steve relayed his out-of-nowhere encounter with his ex-wife, head pillowed on Bucky’s chest. When Bucky heard Steve’s big bombshell, however – that Sharon wanted to call him sometime – Bucky’s hand stilled as his blood went cold.

Steve placed a gentle kiss against his chest. “Relax, Buck. I told her about you. She’s under no illusion about my feelings toward her. Unless she’s delusional, that is.”

Bucky was still uneasy about this whole thing, but tried to force himself to relax, for Steve’s sake. “So what, then? Do you think she just wants to say hi, see how the kids are doing, then go back to her life? Or does she want more?” Visions of shared custody arrangements, splitting holidays, having to make nice with the woman who ripped Steve’s heart to shreds tore through Bucky’s gut.

 _No way_ , Bucky decided. _She wants to see the kids, then fine, but no way am I ever gonna smile and be nice to that woman after what she did to Steve._

“I don’t know what she wants,” Steve continued. “She just… it caught me so off-guard, you know? I was already in a bad mood working on fixing that damn website, and then she just waltzes in like she didn’t rip my fucking guts out and announces she’s reducing the child support? I mean, I understood why, or at least I do now that I’ve had time to calm down. And it’s not about the money, you know? I make enough at the gallery to support us.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Bucky pointed out. “She agreed to that amount every month to help support the kids. Those were the terms _she_ put forth to get out of your marriage, remember.”

“Yeah, but at the time I was unemployed. I hadn’t worked in almost a decade. Now I make 6 figures.”

“Seriously?” Bucky spluttered, slapping his hand against Steve’s hip. “And you let me pay for the hotel? Next time we go out dinner’s on you. Somewhere fancy.”

“You got it,” Steve laughed softly. “Look, I don’t care about the money. As far as I’m concerned, it’s only fair she get a break, since she supported me for so long when we were married. And now that we’re not, I can support myself and the kids. I don’t need her.”

“You know that’s insane, though, right? I don’t know any other person who would let their ex off that easy under those circumstances.”

Steve began to pull away. “Sorry. I guess I’m not most people.”

“Hey, hey. I meant that as a compliment.” Bucky wrapped his arms tighter around Steve and pulled him back in, planting a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. Steve seemed to relax at that. “You’re one of the most generous people I know. It’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

Steve smiled softly at Bucky’s _I love you_. He would never tire of hearing Bucky say those words. “But you still think I’m crazy for actually thinking about calling her?”

“I don’t know if I’d use the word ‘crazy’ per se…”

“But?” Steve prompted.

“But... How would it even work? I mean, how can you stand to even be in the same room with her, after what she did to you?”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, twining their fingers together. His brows pinched in concentration as he watched their knuckles slide against one another, as if the flexing and straightening of Bucky’s fingers against his own held the answer to not only his own dilemma, but the mysteries of the rest of the universe as well. “You remember me?” he finally asked, his words carefully and deliberately chosen. “Back when I first came into the Coffee Shop? How lost I was?”

Bucky smiled at the memory. “Yeah. It was cute.”

“I was lost because I never saw it coming. Like I said, she just absolutely gutted me. Broke my heart in a way I never thought possible. But the thing is?”

“Yeah?” Bucky prompted, as Steve trailed off.

“She broke theirs too.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take Steve long to admit to himself that once the thought had entered his mind, his mind was basically already made up.

He had to meet with Sharon and find some way to make this work. Not for his sake, but for Sarah and Joseph’s. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because of something Mommy and Daddy were going through, especially if Mommy was sincerely sorry and willing to make things right.

He just wished he could skip over the “finding out whether Mommy was sincerely sorry” part and get right to the “making this work” part.

Steve’s hands shook slightly as he opened the door to the Coffee Shop. He’d almost wished he’d picked a different spot; now that he was here it did seem a little indecorous to be meeting his ex-wife in the same place where he’d met and fallen in love with his boyfriend. The familiar aroma of roasted beans and oven-baked delights greeted him, however, instantly calming him as his phone chirped with an incoming text, and he laughed out loud at Bucky’s words.

**Bucky: Remember, if this all turns out to be some kind of ploy to turn you into a double agent for HydraTech, you know what to do, right?**

Steve couldn’t help the sudden laugh that escaped his lips. He was so utterly grateful to have such a supportive boyfriend who was willing to watch the kids during this crazy ordeal and send off-the-wall text messages just because he knew Steve would need them to break the tension of the moment. He grinned as he typed out his reply.

**Steve: Well, I didn’t bring my ankle holster with me, so I can’t shoot her in the kneecaps…**

**Bucky: Damn! That escalated quickly. lol**

**Bucky: I was just gonna say call me for backup.**

Steve chuckled as he reached the counter and ordered his favorite hot chocolate cappuccino. No one here made them quite as good as Bucky ever did, unfortunately, but he had a feeling he’d need the familiar warmth and sweetness to get him through the next hour or so.

**Steve: That was step 2.**

**Bucky: Gee, I had no idea you were such a bad boy.**

**Bucky: I kinda like it. ;)**

**Steve: Good to know. ILY  
**

**Bucky: I love you too. Now hurry up and get back up here. The kids are arm wrestling to see if we get to paint fingernails or play light sabers while you’re gone.**

Fuck. That sounded like fun.

 

*

 

Steve grabbed a seat on one of the two sofas, deciding to forgo his usual table in the corner. For this, it would be easier if he and Sharon didn’t have to look at each other as they talked. At least, it would be easier for Steve; he didn’t really give a shit about making things easier for Sharon. Which was another reason why he’d chosen this place – Sharon’s sister lived in SoHo. Making Sharon come all the way out to Brooklyn not only made things extremely inconvenient for her, it would also show just how much she was invested in making this work.

The door opened and Sharon walked in, a stark contrast to the impeccably dressed woman he’d always known in her jeans and an old faded NYU sweatshirt, hair messily gathered into a ponytail. She glanced around, offering Steve a shaky, forced smile when she spotted him.

“Charming place,” she quipped, sitting down on the sofa next to him.

He couldn’t tell if she was being serious or facetious, so he decided to ignore her comment and just cut right to the chase. “Sharon, why did you call me?”

She glanced at him sideways and cocked an eyebrow at him. “You called me, remember?”

Steve sighed. So this was how today was going to go, apparently. “You know what I mean. Why did you come to the gallery? Your lawyer could’ve told me about the child support. You didn’t have to come.”

Sharon looked as if she were mentally going over a list of answers, trying to choose the one Steve might’ve wanted to hear, then finally shrugged, sinking back into her seat with a defeated sigh. “I didn’t think it would be right, you hearing it from him. You deserved to hear it from me. And because I wanted to apologize. The way I handled things…”

“ _Handled things_? That’s what you call having an affair?”

“I’m sorry, okay? God, you have to believe me. I thought I could just start over and move on without you and the kids. I thought that was what I wanted, but I couldn’t do it, okay? I miss the kids. I missed you.” Sharon paused, reaching a hand towards Steve, but he flinched away. “I just had to see you, see for myself, you know?”

“See what?”

“I saw that piece in the Times about the upcoming French Impressionists exhibit. You looked good. Sounded good. I mean, you used to spend every day in sweatpants, and now you’re in the Times wearing a tux and rubbing elbows with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.”

“Oh my God.” Steve gaped at her. “Is that what this is about? I’ve made a name for myself now, so you want me back?”

“No,” Sharon protested. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess just needed closure. Prove to myself that it really was over, you know?”

Steve sniffed out a humorless laugh. “I thought you made it pretty clear how over it was when you left. I think your exact words were, ‘the gravy train is over, big guy.’ Does that ring a bell?”

Sharon flinched from Steve’s words as if she’d been slapped. “You’re right,” she admitted. “God, that was a nasty thing to say. And I’m sorry, okay? I really am sorry. You were a good husband, and you’re a great father. It just wasn’t what I wanted anymore. Or at least I thought it wasn’t what I wanted. Now? I just don’t know.”

Steve sighed. Despite how easily the furious words flowed, he didn’t want to fight with her. That wasn’t why he came here. “So it’s over with that guy?” he finally asked.

“Yeah. He turned out to be a real asshole. I just wish I’d seen it sooner, before I ruined your lives.”

Steve looked at her, really looked at her. What little makeup she had on was now stained with tear tracks. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on behalf of his two precious children, but he decided she really did look like she’d realized how much she’d fucked up. “You didn’t ruin my life, Sharon. Just… put it on a different path.”

Sharon’s lips briefly quirked up in a small smile, grateful for the tiny olive branch she'd been offered. “And you’re really, you’re seeing someone? A guy?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded slowly. He took a deep breath and let it out as he formulated his next words. Before anything else was said, he had something he needed to get out, and he needed there to be no room for misunderstanding. “Yes, I’m dating a man, and I’m happy with him. And I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear. Actually, no. I’m not sorry. To be perfectly honest, you put me through hell. But somehow in spite of it – or maybe because of it, I don’t know – I met someone. He’s a good man; he’s kind, and he makes me laugh. He’s good with the kids. I love him. I’m glad to have him in my life. And yeah, I do have a good life now, one I wouldn’t have otherwise. But that doesn’t mean I can just forgive and forget, Sharon."

Steve stopped and gave Sharon the barest of glances. She seemed resigned, as if she had finally accepted the fact that she and Steve may never be on good terms ever again. “But I didn’t come here today for you,” he continued. “What you did was cruel and heartless, but you know, I can put up with a lot of crap. I have my whole life. Our children, though? They are sweet, and they are innocent, and they never did anything to you but love you. So if you’re here to make this up to me? Then make it up to them. But let me be clear on something: if you are anything less than 100% sure about this, walk away now, because I won’t put them through that again.”

Sharon closed her eyes and hung her head for a moment under the weight of Steve’s words. “I’m sorry, Steve. I know I keep saying that, but for what it’s worth, I’m really am. If I could take those words back, I would. In fact, there’s a lot of things I would take back. Do differently. With you and with the kids.

“But that’s the thing – I can’t take it back. I can’t take back all those times I cheated on you. I can’t take back how trapped I felt all those years with two kids and a stay-at-home-husband. I can’t take back how much I resented you because you got to be the fun parent, and I had to be the responsible one. And before you say anything, I know now that that’s not how things were, but that’s how I felt, and I can’t take that back either.”

Sharon swiped a fingertip along each cheek, stopping the tears in their tracks. Fresh ones immediately took their place. “I can’t take back the fact that I never even wanted kids – I never told you that, did I? – but that first Christmas without their smiling little faces was the loneliest goddamn day of my life. And I can’t take back the fact that somehow, despite how hard I tried not to, I gave my heart away a long time ago to those two little children. And I can’t take it back. I don’t want to.

“Sarah and Joseph – they’re my heart and soul, Steve. And I know I haven’t said or done anything lately to prove that to you, but I’d like a chance. That’s all I’m asking. Just a chance.”

Steve look at Sharon, and their eyes locked for a moment. She had always been beautiful, and even now, with her messy hair and ruined makeup, she still was. But there was a sadness about her now that didn’t used to be there. And yes, maybe it was her own fault; maybe she’d made her bed and should now lie in it.

But maybe people also deserved second chances.

Steve broke his gaze and looked away, clearing his throat. “Listen, I should, um, I should check on the kids. I’ll be right back.” He stood up and glanced back at Sharon, who nodded, seemingly grateful to have a moment to get herself together.

He hoped he was making the right decision. He _really_ hoped Bucky would think he was making the right decision.

Steve pulled out his phone and dialed Bucky’s number.

 

*

 

“How are they, by the way?” Sharon asked as Steve returned.

“They’re good.” Steve smiled in spite of the circumstances. “Driving Bucky crazy, as usual.”

“Bucky? That’s your…?”

“Boyfriend. Yeah.” He glanced at her, not quite knowing what to expect, but saw only genuine interest in her eyes. “He teaches at NYU.”

“And the kids? What have they been up to?” she asked before Steve could continue.

 _Oh, yeah. Sharon probably doesn’t want to hear about how brilliant Bucky is, how many languages he speaks or how there’s talk he’ll be teaching his own classes in the fall._ He pulled out his phone and showed her a recent picture of the kids instead, from when they’d made homemade pizzas and there had been a little bit of a sauce fight. Steve still wasn’t sure who’d won that one. “Sarah’s been begging me to take dance lessons. She wanted to be a figure skater for a while, but we went to Rockefeller Center for her birthday, and I think it hit home just how cold ice is.”

Sharon gave a watery laugh as she ran her finger across the screen, caressing their faces.  “And Joseph?”

“I think he wants to be Luke Skywalker when he grows up. I don’t quite know how to break it to him that The Force isn’t real.”

Just then the bell chimed as the door to the shop opened and Bucky walked in, the kids immediately behind. Bucky glanced around for a moment, immediately finding Steve and nodding his hello. The kids were completely oblivious, however, running straight up to the counter to see what sugary treats they’d be spoiling their dinner with.

“Wait right here, okay?” Steve gave Sharon a pat on her knee as he stood up and headed over to Bucky.

“Thanks for bringing them down.” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave him a quick kiss hello.

“No sweat.” Bucky glanced over Steve’s shoulder. “That her?”

“Yeah.”

“And you kissed me in front of her?”

“I told you, Buck, I’m not going to hide this. I’m with you now. She knows that.” Steve cast a brief glance over at the sofa where Sharon sat watching them, and gave Bucky a reassuring smile. “I don’t think it’s gonna be a problem, though. She seems okay with it.”

Bucky nodded in reluctant acceptance. “I don’t have to meet her, do I?”

“Hey, I thought you were gonna be my backup here?” Steve quipped.

“Only if you were gonna shoot her,” Bucky deadpanned, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Not today," Steve grinned. Fuck, he was glad Bucky was here. There was no way he’d be able to handle this otherwise. "So, what’d you tell them, anyway?” he asked, cocking his head toward the two kids whose faces were plastered against the pastry window. “It’s like I don’t even exist in here.”

“Not when there’s chocolate chip s’mores cookies, you don’t,” Bucky replied. “Hey, kids! You forget something when you walked in?”

Joseph turned around first, little brow furrowing in concentration before splitting into a wide grin. “Daddy! We di’nt know you were here!” He ran over and gave Steve’s legs a squeezing hug, as if Steve hadn’t just left them half an hour ago.

Sarah wandered over, clearly annoyed at having been pulled away from the display of baked goods. “Dad? What’s going on?” She always was too perceptive for her own good. Steve just pointed across the shop toward where Sharon was waiting patiently on the sofa.

It was Joseph who reacted first. “Mommy!” he cried, tearing across the room and jumping excitedly into her lap, giving her a bone-crushing hug.

Sarah hung back, not quite sure how to react. It broke Steve’s heart just a little bit more, watching his little girl stand there shaking, one hand reaching out to grab onto her dad for security, one hand itching to reach out and grab onto her mother. She looked up at Steve, her pleading eyes questioning whether this was indeed okay before she gave in.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered.

Sarah looked back at her mother once more, her face finally dissolving into tears as she ran across the room into Sharon’s waiting arms.

And Steve just stood there, watching helplessly as his two kids shared a tearful reunion with their mother, hoping and praying like hell he was doing the right thing. After all, anything that made those kids that happy had to be the right thing.

Right?

 

* * *

 

It broke Bucky’s heart to witness, but there was no way in hell he’d be anywhere other than by Steve’s side while this whole thing went down.

It was only for a few hours the following weekend – lunch at a deli nearby followed by an afternoon movie – but it might as well have been the whole goddamn summer the way Steve was trudging through the apartment, trying to paint on a brave face as he got ready to hand his kids over to the woman who’d stomped on his fucking heart. On all their fucking hearts.

Steve was a zombie after dropping the kids off, eyes dazedly scanning the streets as he wandered back to the apartment but not seeing anything. As they neared Steve’s apartment, Bucky tugged on Steve’s hand, directing him instead into the Coffee Shop. Nat let them bake cookies until it was time to go pick the kids up. Steve seemed marginally better.

A few days later Sharon had an interview with Stark Industries. She didn’t mention it to Steve beforehand, or ask for his help in any way. (Bucky didn’t think that made her any less of a bitch, however.) She got the job.

Two weeks later she took the kids shopping for furniture for their new bedrooms. Bucky thought Williamsburg was a little too far away from Steve’s place, but it was close enough to Sharon’s and Steve’s respective jobs, and it was what Sharon was able to find on short notice that was affordable and gave the kids their own bedrooms.

In the meantime, there were meetings with the lawyers. Steve thought it best that Bucky didn’t come along, but he did keep Bucky posted and ask his input whenever possible. It sucked, feeling so helpless watching Steve endure meeting after meeting, phone call after phone call, negotiating the terms under which he would give up his children on a part-time basis.

In the end, they’d agreed on shared custody, with Sharon getting the kids every other weekend. Steve seemed reluctantly satisfied. Bucky thought it was too generous, but kept his mouth shut. It was what it was.

Then the day finally came, almost six weeks after that first meeting at the Coffee Shop. The harsh cold of winter finally broke; the first few tentative buds of spring began to peek their heads out, little bursts of green threatening to take over every non-paved square inch of the city. For the first time in months there was no ruthless winter cold smacking everyone in the face with a harsh, oxymoronic reminder that it was still below freezing despite sunny skies. Now the temperature outside actually matched the cloudless day.

It really pissed Bucky off.

Today, of all days, it should be fucking snowing. There should be a blizzard of biblical proportions, with lightning or tree branches falling or blackouts across the city or some shit. Not fucking birds singing and trees budding with new flowers, like the whole city of New York was celebrating the new beginning that was Sharon fucking Rogers spending her first weekend alone with the two kids she’d walked out on.

Steve took the afternoon off and took Sarah and Joseph to Brooklyn Bridge Park beforehand, Bucky joining them as soon as his last class let out for the day. Then the time came at last. Bucky waited outside Sharon’s building as Steve walked in to hand his kids over to the woman who’d abandoned them 8 months prior.

Steve remained stoic throughout the whole thing. In fact, Bucky had no idea how Steve was handling things so well. The man was like a rock.

They took the subway back instead of walking; Steve claimed exhaustion from running around with the kids all afternoon, but Bucky suspected a different sort of weariness. He held Steve’s hand during the ride home, stroking soothing circles with his thumb. He wished he could do more.

When they made it back to Steve’s place, Bucky didn’t bother asking whether Steve wanted him to start dinner, or put on a movie, or anything else that might distract Steve from the heartbreak he must surely be feeling right now. Instead he led Steve to the bedroom, stripped them both down to their boxers and t-shirts, and pulled Steve down onto the bed with him.

Steve was quiet for the longest time, his calm, even breaths hot against Bucky’s neck as they lay there in silence and held each other. Then Steve’s breathing gradually became more ragged, his grip around Bucky tightened, and he finally, _finally_ began to let out everything he’d been holding in these last few weeks, the violent shudders wracking his body as he sobbed and clung to Bucky’s chest like it was the only thing he had left in the world.

Bucky vowed then and there that he was going to find some way to make Steve Rogers smile again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's been forever. All I can say is, writer's block is a b*tch. The good news is I have most of the rest of the story outlined.
> 
> The other good news (for some of you) is that Sharon's part of the story is over. Now back to our regularly scheduled fluff and porn!
> 
> Oh, and one of you lovelies reminded me of the existence of mocha cappuccinos. What can I say, I'm a Folger's and Mr. Coffee kind of gal. Major brain fart! The hot chocolate cappuccino is their thing, though, so I guess it stays.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's been miserable with the new split custody agreement. Fortunately, his boyfriend has plans to cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's been a year. Thank you all for being so patient. This chapter was quite daunting and, frankly, scared the bejeezus out of me.

Steve hated it.

Almost overnight his days with Sarah and Joseph had become ticks in a countdown to the next time they’d leave for their mother’s. His time with them had an expiration date now. And yes, their time apart was only temporary and short-lived, but that didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye. Which was why Steve agreed in a heartbeat when Sharon suggested picking them up from school herself, saving Steve a trip across town to drop them off. It would be much easier, he’d thought, if he said goodbye to them that morning at school and not that afternoon at Sharon’s place.

He was wrong.

It was only Steve’s second weekend apart from his kids, and leaving Sarah and Joseph at the school’s gate knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing them until Monday afternoon was not any easier than leaving them at Sharon’s doorstep. He’d barely been able to focus at work; he was already getting behind in his preparations for the new docent program the gallery would be starting over the summer. In less than a month he’d have dozens of college kids coming through to jockey for positions, and at this rate he’d have nothing for them to do.

Well, at least he’d have a whole weekend alone at home with no distractions, right? Plenty of opportunity to get some work done.

The thought depressed the hell out of him.

He didn’t even bother turning the lights on as he entered the apartment, instead heading straight for his bedroom. He dropped his bag and jacket on the floor and face-planted into the bed. Okay, screw work; he could just stay right here all weekend.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna spend the entire weekend in here,” Bucky’s voice called out from the bedroom doorway.

“No,” Steve lied, voice muffled by the pillow his face was buried in. “And how did you even get in here?”

“I have a key, remember?” The bed dipped down as Bucky sat down next to Steve. “Did you really not see me sitting on the sofa waiting for you?”

“You weren’t sitting there naked, were you?”

Bucky laughed. “Would that have gotten your attention if I was?”

“No. Probably not.”

Bucky began combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, scratching against his scalp in the way that always gave Steve shivers. “Okay, new plan,” Steve groaned. “We’ll just do this all weekend.”

“As fun as that sounds, I’ve got better plans for us,” Bucky chuckled, smacking Steve on the behind and stood up. “Okay, big guy. Up and at ‘em.”

“What for?”

“I thought we could take a nice, long, hot shower together. Then I’m taking my boyfriend out for dinner.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Which part? The showering with me part?” Bucky leaned over and murmured darkly in Steve’s ear. “‘Cause, you know, we haven’t gotten to do that since that time at the Standard.”

And damn if he didn’t just turn around and strip right there, leaving a trail of clothes leading out of the bedroom as Steve watched his naked ass saunter into the bathroom. That was _so_ not playing fair.

But a hot shower did sound nice. Especially with a naked Bucky there too.

Steve left his own trail of clothes on his way to the bathroom, and climbed into the shower behind Bucky.

“See?” Bucky chuckled. “I knew you’d crack.”

Steve wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. “Can’t we just stay here all night?”

“Nope. You’ll get cold back there eventually, since I got all the good hot water up here with me.” Bucky twined his fingers into Steve’s, planting a kiss on each of Steve’s hands as he peeled them from his abdomen. He twisted around and palmed Steve’s ass, which shivered under his touch. “See? Already getting goosebumpy. I think we need to fix that.”

Bucky shuffled them around until Steve was in front, back to the spray. He threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp again, before tipping Steve’s head back into the stream. Steve let his eyes flutter shut with a soft moan. Bucky was right, dammit; this was exactly what he’d needed. He kept his eyes closed, trusting Bucky to take care of him.

Strong hands threaded through his wet hair, massaging shampoo into the strands. Tipped his head back again to rinse, sweeping a stray lock away from his forehead and into the stream of warm water. Turned him around and soaped his back, massaging tired muscles along the way. Swept around Steve’s body and along his chest, causing him to gasp as a nipple was lightly tweaked. And finally those hands wrapped around his cock, which had long ago begun to take notice of the events, and gave one long, delicious stroke.

Steve let his head fall back onto Bucky’s shoulder, groaning at the sensations. “Oh, God, Buck,” he sighed.

“Shhh,” Bucky whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

As many times as they’d been together, as many orgasms as Steve had had with Bucky, _because_ of Bucky, somehow it had never felt this intimate. This intense. This magnified. Steve felt completely on display, knowing Bucky was watching every hitch of his breath, every twitch of his muscles, every pulse of his cock.

Steve’s breathing began to speed up, heaving in time with Bucky’s strokes. He was so close, he just needed that last little push. His knees began to tremble as he neared that knife’s edge; Bucky’s other arm wrapped assuredly around his torso, holding him up, and that did it. Steve came with a breathy groan, going limp and boneless in Bucky’s arms.

Steve felt completely relaxed as Bucky shut off the water and wrapped him in a soft towel, rubbing him dry. So relaxed, in fact, that as soon as he reentered his bedroom, he once again face-planted on the bed.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Bucky said, dragging Steve by the feet off the mattress.

“Hey! Stop that!” Steve scrambled for purchase, but the comforter offered no assistance whatsoever. Bucky dropped his feet and he hit the floor in an awkward heap. “What the hell, Buck?”

Bucky smirked, finally offering him a hand up. “Hey, I told you we were going out. Not staying in. Not my fault you can’t follow directions.”

Steve sighed. “Okay, fine. But let the record show that I was willing to spend all night in bed with you, and that you’re the one turning me down.”

Bucky laughed out loud as he pulled on a pair of Steve’s boxers. “Let the record also show that _you_ were gonna spend all night face down in bed complaining, until I gave you a hand job. Man, you’re easy.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

*

 

Okay, maybe Steve did feel a little better now. He was loose, relaxed, actually looking forward to an evening out.

Bucky was wrong, though. He wasn’t _that_ easy. It was just… Bucky’s hands, and the way he knew just when to squeeze on the upstroke, his breath hot on Steve’s neck…

“You know,” Bucky said, shooting Steve a knowing look as he led them down the street and toward their mystery destination, “You keep smiling like that and everyone’s gonna know you just got laid.”

Steve shrugged, slipping Bucky’s hand into his own. “I don’t care if everyone knows I got laid. As long as they know it was with you, and that you’re all mine.”

Bucky shook his head. “You know, sometimes I can’t believe you’re the same guy who used to blush all the way to his toes when I so much as smiled at you.”

“What can I say? You’ve brought out the devil in me,” Steve grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, well, the devil’s gonna have to calm himself down for a little while, ‘cause we’re almost there.”

Steve caught sight of the sign a block later and somehow just knew that’s where Bucky was taking him. “The Salty Stag? Really, Buck?”

Bucky pulled the door open, waving Steve in first. “They’ve got over two dozen beers on tap. Sounded cool.”

“Uh-huh. And the fact that ‘stag’ is another word for ‘buck’ had nothing to do with it?” Steve wasn’t buying Bucky’s feigned innocence. “Not to mention what ‘salty’ is a synonym for?”

Bucky stopped, his brow furrowed in thought for a moment, and burst into laughs. “Fuck. I didn’t even think of that.”

Steve just shook his head and followed Bucky to the bar. “How’d you find this place, anyway?”

“A friend recommended it.” Bucky slapped his hand across the shoulder of one of the bar patrons. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey!” Sam turned in his seat, his smile widening when he saw Steve. “Hey, you made it! I gotta admit, I did not think Bucky could convince you to come out tonight.”

“Oh, so this is a conspiracy? You two plotting against me?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, “but we promise to only use our powers for good, not evil.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sam shook his head and took another sip of his beer. “I am not making any promises about anything.”

Bucky pointed a finger at Sam. “Except…”

“Except, I do promise to get your man home in one piece. Anything beyond that is out of my control.”

Steve looked from Sam to Bucky and back again. Had he missed something? “Wait, Bucky, you’re not staying?”

“Not tonight, babe. You and Sam have fun. But don’t stay out too late, ‘cause I _do_ have plans for us tomorrow.” Bucky placed his hands on Steve’s hips and have him a light kiss on the cheek.  “I’ll see you back at your place, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve gave Bucky a peck on the lips, too stunned by the sudden change of plan to do much else. “See you.”

He watched as Bucky slipped out the door, then turned back to Sam. “What the hell just happened?”

Sam patted the seat next to him.  “What just happened was, your boy was concerned about you, so he called me, your oldest and dearest friend, to help get your head out of your ass.”

“Fuck you.” Steve laughed as he sat down, though, and waved the bartender over.

“What is going to happen _now_ is, you and I are gonna order some burgers, drink a few beers, and then I’m gonna kick your ass at pool.”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Steve said with a sigh. “Doesn’t seem nice to take advantage of a poor, color-blind person like that.”

“Shut up, you damn hustler. I ain’t falling for that one.”

“Again, you mean?” Steve grinned and took a sip of his beer, that hollow feeling he’d been fighting all afternoon in Sarah and Joseph’s absence starting to finally fade away.

 

*

 

“Remind me again why we’re out so early on a Saturday morning?” Steve squinted against the sunlight, his sunglasses doing very little to lessen the harsh brightness.

“It’s 11:00, old man. Ain’t my fault you’re not as young as you used to be.”

“Yeah, but it is your fault that I went out drinking last night.”

“You had fun, though.” Bucky knocked Steve’s shoulder with his own. “Admit it.”

“Yeah, I did.” Steve smiled tiredly. “Did I tell you we’re gonna make it a regular thing? Every other Friday when the kids are at Sharon’s.”

“Hey, is your hot celebrity trainer friend trying to steal you away from me? Should I be worried here?”

“You’re invited too, obviously.” Steve smirked at Bucky’s jealousy. Even though he knew it was a complete put-on, it still made him smile. “You know, since this was your idea and all.”

“Oh, well, thanks for that.”

“So, you gonna tell me where we’re going this time?”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at Steve and turned back toward the street, picking up the pace. “What do you think?”

Steve rolled his eyes and followed. “You know, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

 

*

 

“Now won’t you admit that this is way better than eating leftovers alone in your apartment?” Bucky asked as he polished off the last of his pastrami and sauerkraut on rye.

Steve couldn’t help but smile, remembering the last time he and Bucky had come to this deli, all those months ago after taking the kids to Prospect Park. “This place was sort of our first date, you know.”

“Nah, our first date was at the Coffee Shop. I bought you a muffin, remember?”

“Yeah, from money I left you in the tip jar.”

“Eh, semantics.” Bucky plucked a potato chip from Steve’s pile. “You know what I remember most about the day we came here?”

“How much of an awkward idiot I was around you?”

“You had this blue shirt on that was just tight enough that I barely had enough blood left for higher brain function,” Bucky smiled. “God, you were so out of my league. What are you even doing with me?”

Steve reached across the table and grabbed Bucky’s hand. “You have your moments. Even if you did drag me out of bed way too early.”

“Hey, I gave you coffee and ibuprofen.”

“You know what I remember about that day?” Steve continued, ignoring Bucky’s jibe. “I put on that shirt and took the kids to the Coffee Shop for breakfast hoping to run into you. Then Nat mentioned you were with Becca for the day. I thought Becca was your girlfriend.” Steve shook his head, remembering how Nat’s words had sliced through his gut.

“Wait, were you jealous?” Bucky grinned. “Of my two-year-old sister? Wait, was that why you acted so weird when I introduced you to her?”

“Yep.” Steve chuckled. “God, can you believe we made it here after all that?”

“You’re not gonna get all sappy on me now, are you Rogers?”

“You’d prefer I just give you a one-armed man hug and call you ‘bro’?”

Bucky’s face twisted into a puzzled frown , then he burst out laughing. “Oh God, never speak like that again.”

Steve stood up and gathered his trash from the table. “All right, where to next?”

“Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

 

* * *

 

“Sakura Matsuri?”

“It’s the Japanese cherry blossom festival,” Bucky explained, trying his best to reign in his excitement. “Right here at Prospect Park every spring.”

“You’re taking me to a festival?”

“Nah, it’s not ‘til next weekend, actually. But the cherry blossoms are in bloom now, so I thought we could enjoy the view now while it’s not so crowded.” Bucky really hoped Steve bought his half-assed explanation, because it sounded a little flimsy even to him. But it had come down to either here or the art gallery, and he was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t want to spend his day off at work, even with the surprise Bucky had up his sleeve. “And, you know, if you wanna bring the kids back next weekend we could still do that.”

“You brought me here to look at flowers? Now who’s the sappy one, Barnes?”

“Can it, Rogers. This is a learning experience.” Bucky reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small stack of papers, handing it to Steve. “I printed out some info on the festival so we can read up on what it is and what there is to do.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s actually a good idea.” Steve squinted at the small print. “Jeez, Buck. Do you think you could’ve made the typeface a little smaller?”

“Why, you having a little trouble, old man?” Bucky reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out, handing it to Steve. “Maybe you need glasses, huh?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Maybe later, if you wear those glasses,” Bucky winked.

“Really?” Steve cocked an eyebrow at Bucky. “You got a nerd kink now?”

“Pfft. No way.” He totally did, though. As long as said nerd was Steve. But that wasn’t what this day was about. _Just put the damn glasses on already, Steve_. _Come on._

Steve leaned in. “Should I bring my pocket protectors?”

“Sorry.” Bucky grinned and shook his head. “Not doing it for me.”

“You sure? You don’t wanna see how big my SAT score is?”

“Geez, that was bad, Rogers.”

“Show you how thick my dictionary is?”

“Oh, God,” Bucky winced. “Never say that again.”

“Sure, you say that now.” Steve took the glasses from Bucky and slipped them on slowly, seductively. “But just wait until…”

Steve trailed off as he finally, fully donned the glasses. Bucky watched, captivated, as Steve’s entire demeanor changed. This was it, the moment he’d waited all these weeks for. Fuck, it had been so hard keeping this to himself, but it was all worth it now to see the vast array of emotions flitting across Steve’s face.

Or, more specifically, the vast array of emotions on Steve’s face as he digested the rainbow of colors that were now filling his field of vision, for the first time in his life.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed. “What… how did you…”

“What do you think?” Bucky was so excited for Steve he could barely contain himself. How he had managed to keep this a secret this whole time was a mystery, but the look on Steve’s face now made it all worth it. “Is it different?”

“ _Different?_ Bucky, Jesus.” Steve took the glasses off. Put them back on. Took them off again. Put them back on again. He was nearly in tears when he spoke again. “The trees! Oh my god! That’s pink, right? The cherry blossoms? And the grass, holy shit. Green, I had no idea. That’s just…”

Steve trailed off, his eyes darting all around the landscape as he took it all in – the red in a t-shirt of a child running past, the orange stripe across the sweater of a man strolling hand in hand with a woman in a teal dress, rows upon rows of pink- and magenta-blossomed trees across fields of emerald green grass. With every new sight, every new color, Steve would clap his hand in front of his mouth and the tears would threaten to spill over again. At last he turned full circle and faced Bucky again, his hand once again flying in front of his mouth.

“Oh my god, your shirt!”

Bucky couldn’t help but grin. “You like it?”

Steve took a tentative step toward Bucky and touched his shirt, running his fingers across the fabric. “That’s… is that purple?”

“Yeah.”

“What are these? How did you…”

“They’re ChromoVision glasses, from StarkTech. Well, actually, those right there are a prototype. The regular ones they make are sunglasses, but I called Tony and asked if they had any regular _glasses_ glasses, that you could wear all the time, and he told me no and hung up on me, kinda rude, right? But then he called me a week ago and said he had worked up a prototype, so…”

Bucky’s words were cut off as Steve grabbed him and kissed him. It was messy, haphazard and frantic, Steve half-laughing half-crying against Bucky’s lips, Bucky’s face smooshed against Steve’s glasses, but it was one of the best kisses Bucky had ever experienced. Steve finally pulled back, his eyes glistening as he brushed Bucky’s hair away from his forehead. “Wow. Your eyes. They have a little bit of green in them.”

“You’re not gonna go and get all sappy on me again, are you, Rogers?” Bucky joked, his voice thick with emotion, completely betraying just how much watching Steve was affecting him. “I bring you to the most gorgeous spot in the city and you wanna stare at my ugly mug?”

“Hey, that’s the man I love you’re talking about.”

Bucky felt himself blushing. “Yeah, yeah. Seriously though. What do you think?”

“Are you kidding? It’s… I’m overwhelmed.”

“Think you can handle one more surprise?”

“Better than this? I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Buck.”

“I didn’t say it was ‘better,” I just said it was ‘more’.” Bucky reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, scrolling through until he found what he was looking for. “Take a look.”

 

* * *

 

Steve took the phone from Bucky’s hands, and clapped a hand in front of his face. The tears he had been struggling to hold back spilled over in waves as he looked at the screen, hitting him so hard he had to sit down.

It was a photo of Bucky with the kids, the same one Bucky had texted to him the day that he, Pepper, and Darcy had found the gallery site – the one with Sarah doing her fish-mouth and Joseph pulling his lips wide with his fingers, and Bucky with his lips curled into a sneer. It had made him smile all those months ago, but now? Now he could see the strawberry streaks in Sarah’s blonde hair. He could make out the reddish auburn of Joseph’s locks. The pink of Sarah’s shirt. The red and yellow Superman emblem on Joseph’s. Oh god, they were both so beautiful.

He swiped to the next picture, and the next, and the next, tears flowing anew. There was Sarah in her princess Halloween costume. Joseph dressed in orange as a Jedi fighter pilot. Sarah showing off her pink- and purple-hearted bedroom walls. Joseph showing off a picture he’d painted for Steve, with his arm and handprint as the branches and little yellow and orange thumbprints as the leaves. There was Sarah in her red and green Christmas dress, Joseph in his little suit with the red tie. Sarah modeling the dress she’d worn for her birthday date with Steve, a soft lavender with glittery crystals.

Photo after photo, every single one Bucky had collected of the kids since coming into their lives, was right here in vivid, living color. Bucky was right, Steve suddenly realized, to do this on a weekend when the kids were at Sharon’s. Because if they were here with him, right now? He wouldn’t stop looking at them, touching them, crying over how blessed he was to have such amazing, beautiful children. And he’d probably embarrass the hell out of them in the process.

“Bucky, this is… I can’t believe this. I’m overwhelmed.” Steve struggled to find the words as he swiped through photo after photo, finally landing on one at the coffee shop. “Wait a second. Nat is a redhead?!?”

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling Steve’s shoulder. “So, it take it you like your present?”

“I love it.” Steve turned his head, angling in toward Bucky’s luscious red lips. “I love you.”

Steve poured as much as he could into kissing Bucky, every ounce of love and gratitude and awe and respect that he felt for this man, everything that he could never in a million years come up with the proper words for. He pulled away with one last reluctant peck before things got too indecent for a public park. “So, any more surprises for me today? What else you got planned?”

“Nothing, actually. At least, not until dinner.” Bucky stood up, folding out his hand for Steve. “In the meantime, you wanna take a stroll around the park and take pictures of random stuff?”

Steve took Bucky’s hand. “Absolutely.”

 

*

 

The afternoon had been perfect. Dinner had been perfect, a seafood place in Red Hook that Bucky said he’d been dying to take Steve to. Now Steve followed as Bucky led him northward, past a few warehouses to one last surprise spot.

“I can’t believe after everything we’ve done today you still won’t tell me where we’re going,” Steve complained.

“I can’t believe you still think that if you keep nagging me like a three-year-old I’m just gonna crack.”

Steve smiled. “I can’t believe I never noticed how much of a shit you are.”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah? Well I can’t believe you ordered a $110 crab entrée just because _‘crab is orange, Buck!’_ ”

“Shut up. I’ve never seen orange before,” Steve muttered. “And it was an entrée for two, remember.”

“I remember.” Bucky took Steve’s hand, threading their fingers together. “And I think you’re adorable.”

“I’m not adorable. I’m very gruff and manly.”

“Steve, you literally started crying an hour ago because you saw a kid dressed like Iron Man.”

Oh God. Steve was never gonna live that one down. It was just… the kid looked like Joseph, and he was wearing _red_ , and… he buried his face in his free hand. “Can we just not mention that ever again?”

Bucky stopped and faced Steve, resting his hands on Steve’s hips. “As long as you promise to never, ever change,” he murmured, leaning in to capture Steve’s lips in a kiss. “Now come on. It’s almost time.”

“Time for what?” Steve called out, following as Bucky dragged him the last half a block toward the riverfront. It was a small park, Steve discovered, nestled among the warehouses; it didn’t look like much from the outside, but it did have one very distinctive feature. “Hey, that’s the Statue of Liberty!”

“Yep. This park is the closest you can get, unless you go to Jersey or Governor’s Island.”

Steve walked toward the edge, leaning over the railing. “Wow, I had no idea. It’s so… _green_ ,” he laughed. “It’s beautiful.”

Bucky came up behind, wrapping his arms around Steve, and nuzzled his chin into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Wait ‘til the sun starts to go down. You think orange-colored crab is amazing, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

 

*

 

They stumbled into the apartment well after dark. The trip home had been torture, Steve’s hands itching with how badly he’d longed to touch Bucky, but he’d held back. Because he knew that once he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. Once he had Bucky inside, however, all bets were off.

He pushed Bucky up against the door and kissed him, pressing himself against Bucky’s body as tightly as he could. After not being able to do any more than holding hands the whole way over, he now wanted nothing more than to be as close as possible for the rest of the night. Bucky grabbed two handfuls of Steve’s ass and pulled him flush as they kissed; clearly he had the same thoughts. The same desires. The same needs.

Steve pulled back and framed Bucky’s face with his hands, just looking at him. The freckle on the left side of his forehead, the slate blue of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the angle of his cheekbones. “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed. “I want you.”

“You have me,” Bucky murmured in reply, undulating his hips into Steve’s as he held on.

“Can I have you right here?” Steve asked, peppering kisses down Bucky’s jaw and into the crook of his neck. “Wrap your legs around me as I hold you up and fuck you right against this door?”

Bucky let go of Steve’s ass and pressed lightly against his chest, putting a bit of space between them. “As tempting as that sounds, I uh…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I have one last surprise, if you’re up to it?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I can take any more surprises, to be honest.” Especially if it meant delaying getting his hands back on Bucky.

Bucky pecked him of the lips before slipping out of Steve’s grasp. “You’ll like it. I promise. Just, uh, wait here and I’ll call you in a minute. After I get everything ready.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, taking a few steadying deep breaths as he fought to regain his composure. He watched as Bucky grabbed a bag off the sofa and headed for the bedroom.

A few torturous minutes later Bucky came back out. “Everything’s ready.” He took Steve by the hand and led him back to the bedroom. Steve’s heart fluttered in nervous anticipation as Buck opened the bedroom door.

There were candles on every surface, small votives and large pillars, casting a warm orange glow around the room. And when Bucky turned back to look at Steve to gauge his reaction, the way the light hit his face… Steve could not wait any longer. He framed Bucky’s face in his hands once more and kissed him, slow and deep and thorough, making it absolutely clear the things he planned on doing to Bucky now that they were alone.

They peeled each other out of their clothing, leaving trails of kisses along each new expanse of skin uncovered. Bucky made it to the bed first, draping himself on his side the way he knew Steve liked, and yes, normally Steve loved taking Bucky that way, spooning up behind him, being able to trace his lips along the muscles of Bucky’s back while mapping out the curves of Bucky’s abdomen with his hands. Tonight, though, he wanted something different.

He grabbed the lube and a condom from the nightstand and slipped onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard. Bucky rolled over, a slow smile spreading across his face as he saw what Steve had in mind. “You want me to ride you?” he asked, straddling Steve’s lap.

Steve brushed a lock of hair from Bucky’s forehead, raking his eyes over every inch of Bucky’s face. He wanted to see that face fall apart above him, see every micro-expression that crossed it as the pleasure built and crested. “I wanna watch you. Wanna see you.”

Bucky ran a finger along the frames of Steve’s glasses. “You gonna wear these?”

“That’s why you got all these candles, right?” Steve murmured as he traced the lines of Bucky’s jaw. “So I can see you come in full color?”

Bucky smiled. “It’s pretty cool, right? The candlelight?”

“It’s amazing.” Steve watched the shadows dance across Bucky’s face as the flames flickered and danced. If he never in his life got to see color ever again after tonight, he would be perfectly content as long as he got to carry the memory of Bucky in this moment with him. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky leaned in to kiss Steve, slow and deep and thorough, his tongue caressing Steve’s as he began to undulate a steamy rhythm in Steve’s lap. Steve reached for the lube, starting a rhythm of his own as he prepped Bucky. One finger became two, two became three, until their kissing became little more than mutual panting. Bucky reached for the condom and rolled it on Steve’s cock, sinking down in one deliberate, fluid motion, joining them together.

They moved together, breathed together, came together.

Steve woke several hours later as the dying flames sputtered their last efforts, shadows dancing across Bucky’s skin. He climbed out of bed, grabbing his sketchbook from its spot on the dresser. He wished he could capture this moment in color, but for now his charcoal pencil would have to do.

The things that Bucky had done for him; it was amazing. Awe-inspiring. He hadn’t thought it possible that he could love Bucky any more than he already did, and then this weekend. Bucky had opened his eyes, helped him see that he did have a life beyond sitting at home and wallowing over the fact that his kids were with their mother. That he wasn’t just Steve Rogers: marriage failure and single father; he was also Steve Rogers: lover, partner, and friend.

All of a sudden, sitting there in his ma’s old armchair watching as the rays of firelight faded to moonlight dancing across his lover’s skin, Steve couldn’t imagine living his life one more day without the man lying in front of him being by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bar name came from an online pub name generator. I have a wee bit o' headcanon that the guys' night out turns into a big thing in which all their other guy friends start showing up: Thor turns out to be one of Sam's clients and starts coming, maybe Bucky knows Scott from NYU, Tony gets wind from Pepper and shows up with Happy, Rhodey, and/or Banner, a limo, things get out of hand (maybe the Stark jet is involved), and Bam! Hangover AU. (and if any of you out there want to run with that bit of writing prompt, you have my blessing.)
> 
> The glasses are a real thing, made by the EnChroma company, and as of right now are only available as sunglasses. If you ever feel like weeping uncontrollably go to YouTube and pull up some videos of people trying them for the first time.
> 
> And thank you, once again, for your patience while I got this chapter done. There's always that one chapter that gives me fits and this was it for me. Not to mention the fact that Plot Bunny struck while I was writing this, so now I have a little side Stucky thing I've been working on. Stay tuned!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little author's note about what's to come

This is not a chapter, but an author's note. I'll leave it up for a month or two so that all you lovelies following this story will know where to find all the new updates, then I'll probably add this note as a post-script to chapter 15.

As you all know, I have not been updating this as frequently as I (and you) would like. Part of the reason is that my original plan for this story was to follow the plot of the movie a little more closely from here on out and have the boys come into a rough patch, break up, and eventually reunite at the end of the story and live happily ever after. I couldn't really use the pregnancy story line like in the movie, though, so that left me trying to figure out some other reason for these guys to break up. One that was, you know, believable.

I was completely stumped.

Nothing I came up with seemed plausible in the slightest, so I have been struggling for ages now to try and figure out where to take this story next. Then it finally occurred to me - there just isn't any plausible scenario in which these two guys would ever break up. Maybe that makes me a poor writer, writing two characters who basically took themselves out of the plot I had envisioned, but I have finally decided to go with it. Since the previous chapter seems like a good wrapping-up sort of chapter, I've decided to end the primary story there and transition the story over to a series of timestamps which will follow Steve and Bucky over the next few years of their life together. It will be a multi-chapter format, instead of me posting each time stamp individually, so it will be easier to follow. And don't worry - there will be plenty more to come. I just didn't want to add it to the primary story, because the plot from here on out will take a slightly different path. It will be a new story in and of itself.

Thank you all for reading and for being patient with me while I figure this thing out. And now... click "next work" at the bottom to see what is in story for our boys next!

 

 


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